No Man Left Behind
by Gangyzgirl
Summary: KaNack the Argonian is a powerful mage who now is both Listener and leader to the Dark Brotherhood. It becomes a race against time when his Keeper, Cicero, is captured by an old enemy. With his loyal Brotherhood members and his Spectral Assassin, the Argonian must get his Keeper back before the Night Mother is silenced forever.
1. The Jester and Spirit

Three lone travelers made their way along the winding road by the sea towards their destination. Hawks circled overhead seeking out a free fish meal from one of the returning ships. The sun's beam was a tangerine in color as the day was almost done and shined brightly almost blinding those who tried to look directly at the Blue Palace that stood out above the surrounding walls.

Two mortals rode horses and the ghost followed close behind. One was a black and red Argonian and the other an Imperial protected by a glistening glass armor that shined brightly in the sun's light. To many towns they were considered heroes and protectors of the land, but they were in fact three of the core members of the Dark Brotherhood. The Argonian was known only as KaNack and he had become the leader of the Dark Brotherhood and the Listener, Cicero the jester and Keeper of the Night Mother and the Spectral Assassin that had once been a Speaker for the Black Hand.

Many Black Sacraments had been answered after such a long period of silence thanks to the Argonian's arrival. What was once a starting group of four had expanded to many members. Once trained, the assassins spread out on to form their own guilds of killers and five years later, new sanctuaries had appeared in different parts of Skyrim. The home in Dawnstar however was the vital one, the home of the Night Mother, the source for all the assassins' contracts.

The Listener proudly rode the black steed Shadowmere while covering his face was the mask of the Dragon Priest Nahkriin ; proof of how he had gone to the ancient dragon temple Skuldafn and lived to tell the tale. Cicero rode the horse Frost. The horse had been given to him as a gift from his kindly Listener. Doing so much travel on Shadowmere, the mage knew his trusted follower would never be able to keep up on foot and decided to give the jester the horse when the argument between him and his original owner Louis got slightly, HEATED. The ghost kept to the mage's right and away from the dirt being kicked up from the horse's feet on the dusty road.

The spirit was a gift given to KaNack by Astrid and was deemed 'Buddy', as he was not given a name and never seemed to speak of one; at least not to the mage's recollection. The ghost never corrected him and the name stuck. Armed with only a blade and a bow, the spirit would rush into the fight without a second thought for he was there to follow and serve the leader of the Dark Brotherhood. There would be an occasion when the spirit was too injured and had to return to the void; without fail however, twenty-four hours later KaNack would conjure him back. 'Buddy' was a constant companion and if KaNack could help it, he would do his best to protect and heal either one of his companions, living or dead.

Cicero was a sight to behold when traveling with the Listener. The Argonian forged his faithful jester glass armor that was of the highest quality. KaNack insisted Cicero wear the armor during travel to provide him with extra protection because there was only so much healing the mage could provide during a fight. Fool of Hearts that he was however still wore his jester clothes underneath the armor. KaNack also provided Cicero with staffs that they came upon during their adventures and explorations. As much as the fool loved his ebony dagger, shooting the staffs was great fun and the Listener never said 'No' to Cicero whenever a staff appeared and the jester wanted it. Duel wielding staffs became almost second nature to Cicero and he enjoyed the ability to wield lightning, frost and fire just like his Listener could.

The trio had just finished almost a week of completing Black Sacrament contracts and the Argonian was tired and missed the company of his spouse. It was at Proudspire Manor where KaNack's wife, Brelyna, lived and also his home away from home at the Dawnstar Sanctuary. The mage brightened up when he saw the large walled structure of Solitude ahead in the distance.

"There it is! We're almost there!" He gave Shadowmere a gentle nudge to his side with his foot and the horse's pace increased as the mage rode to the stables. Cicero sighed as he took his time riding Frost to the stables and then dismounted. The Fool of Hearts always got antsy when it came close to the end of the week; the Keeper did not like staying away from Mother for too long. KaNack failed to notice this as he stroked Shadowmere's velvet muzzle.

"Good work, Shadowmere, you've earned yourself some oats and rest." The Argonian filled the buckets with water and food for the ravenous steed who feasted snorting happily. The mage threw a blanket over Shadowmere's back covering up the emblem of the Black Hand on his saddle. The head of the stable was paid a handsome amount to make sure that no one disturbed the horses; after all, it would not be good for the resident thane of Solitude to be discovered to be an associate of the Dark Brotherhood, the company responsible for the murder of the Emperor. There were at least two residents in Solitude that KaNack knew would not be happy with him if word got out.

"Oh, Listener, must we stop now?" Cicero pined as he looked out towards the docks. The Dawnstar Sanctuary was less than a ten hour ride away and jester knew that all too well. "Mother needs tending! We've been gone for much longer than expected!"

"Cicero, our horses need rest, and I haven't seen Brelyna in two weeks. I do have a family outside the Brotherhood." He turned towards Solitude gazing at it longingly. "I hardly ever get to see her as it is."

"Cicero does not see why the Listener can't keep her at Sanctuary. Plenty of room there. Then Listener could see her and still keep close to Mother!"

"She can't possibly know what I do outside those walls. She would never understand. As far as she is concerned, I'm just fighting dragons and protecting the countryside." He turned to the spectral assassin that had just caught up with them. "You don't mind staying overnight, right Buddy?"

"Lead, and I will follow, Child of Darkness," the spirit answered simply.

"You always take the Listener's side," the jester grumbled.

Cicero sulked as the three walked up the long road that led to Solitude. Seeing his Keeper in such low spirits, the mage wrapped an arm around his shoulder playfully.

"Cicero, have I ever kept you away from your keeping duties for longer than promised?"

"Err, yes Listener," the Fool of Hearts answered blatantly. "Several times in fact."

"Oh, well it won't happen this time, I promise!" KaNack stated with a grin. "Mother will be tended to at the proper time. All I ask for is some time with my wife."

"Yes, Listener," the jester sighed. "Humble Cicero lives to serve."

Solitude opened to them, and there were people busy packing things away as evening was coming and the shopping hours were over. The only business open was the Winking Skeever that would most likely to be entertained by one of the three that night, whether he was wanted there or not. The guards greeted KaNack as thane and showed the proper respect to the trio as they found their way to Proudspire. The manor was much larger than the Listener's previous abode back in Whiterun; but with the added company it made sense that the mage would want larger living quarters. After the three entered, the smell of fresh horker stew struck Cicero's nose and his stomach growled.

"Poor Cicero is hungry."

"We'll get something for you to eat. Just make yourself comfortable. Brelyna!" He called out as he pulled off the mask Nahkriin, no longer needing its blessings at the moment.

The female Dark Elf appeared from the kitchen area and beamed when she saw KaNack.

"You're home, my love!" Brelyna rushed over, embracing her husband.

The two had met each other when both were apprentices at the College of Winterhold. KaNack had offered to help her when she was still learning some spells, and they had been together since that moment. It was shortly after he had become leader of the Dark Brotherhood when the Argonian finally proposed and married the Dark Elf.

The Dark Elf opened her eyes and gasped when she saw that they were not alone. "Oh, and you brought your friends….Again."

"Did you put carrots in the stew this time? Cicero likes carrots," Cicero muttered as he brushed past the Listener and Brelyna.

This was not the first time that KaNack had returned with company and she was sure it would not be the last. He had insisted that Cicero was the best companion he could ask for on adventures and only laughed when his wife recommended Lydia. She did not mind the company of 'Buddy' as he was quiet and only spoke when he wanted to share a story of the past, dark as they were. The jester, on the other hand, he was something different all together. He had a sense of humor that disturbed her greatly and she felt he was more than slightly touched in the head. She could not comprehend how a mentally unstable jester was a better companion to fight dragons than a professional housecarl to the Jarl of Whiterun.

Cicero removed his glass armor, revealing his crimson jester's outfit underneath. Even though the armor was light, the jester felt relieved to be out of it. He placed it into a nearby chest along his with his three favored staffs: the staff of chain lightning, the staff of fireballs and the staff of the Frost Atronach. He had literally hundreds of staffs back at sanctuary, but these three he enjoyed the most.

"I'm sorry, Brelyna, we just came back from a long journey, and I couldn't let them go ahead without me." He pointed over at the spirit and jester. "Besides, these two have a million stories to tell. You love stories."

"Yes, but as the lady knows there is plenty of history in Solitude as well. Cicero can tell many stories. Such as the murder of Victoria at her wedding, the death of the false Emperor or the death of the real Emper…."

"Cicero, that is enough!" snapped KaNack. He did not appreciate Cicero bringing up past jobs performed in the town he lived in, especially those he had been responsible for. Brelyna had definitely had enough of Cicero and stormed back into the kitchen.

Cicero made his way over to KaNack and playfully nudged him.

"You know Listener, as Cicero always says, the quickest way to a lady's heart is with a long sharp dagger."

"Cicero!" KaNack hissed, hoping Brelyna didn't hear Cicero's dark humor. Jordis the housecarl was nearby, and it was obvious by the expression on her face that she didn't find the Fool of Heart's humor in the best of taste either. "Listen, Brelyna seems madder than usual; I'd better go talk to her."

"Please, please!" insisted the jester giving a slight bow. "Cicero understands the Listener needs his privacy, Cicero will go off and amuse himself!"

Cicero had made a few jokes, but the Argonian noticed a lack of mirth in his friend's usual persona. "Are you alright? You don't seem yourself."

"Cicero is just tired Listener, and the Night Mother is on his mind. Can't keep Mother waiting."

KaNack nodded his head in agreement; it was vital that Cicero was there to tend to the Night Mother. Without proper keeping, she would literally rot away, breaking off all contact between her and the Brotherhood. "We leave first thing tomorrow Cicero; wake me if you wish. We will go straight to Dawnstar."

"The kindly Listener is too good to humble Cicero." The mage nodded to his companion, and then left for the kitchen to try and console his wife.

The spectral assassin made his was over to the Fool of Hearts and stood next to him. "Have you heard of the tale of Mathieu..."

"Yes, I have," Cicero muttered as he grabbed a sweet roll from a nearby plate and chomped into it.

"Alright then," sighed the spirit. Cicero grabbed a second sweet roll and then turned around and exited the house to Solitude. The ghost waited for just a moment before he followed the Fool of Hearts out; he had become very familiar with the jester's antics and knew it would be better with a pair of eyes on Cicero. He had expected Cicero to head to the Winking Skeever for some drink followed by singing, but the inn was passed by completely. Instead, Cicero pushed open the large doors of the stronghold and left.

"What is he up to?" the spirit pondered aloud. The jester walked up a path to the high Cliffside near the Solitude Port and faced the sea. One could see clear past the horizon from the perch at the top. Cicero took a seat and continued to munch on his sweet roll as he stared out ahead at the sunset. The spectral assassin kept his distance, surprised to see the usually jumpy and laughing jester almost at peace at the serenity of the beauty before him.

"It's not polite to sneak up on people," Cicero stated still staring ahead. "That must mean Cicero is rude as well." Cicero chuckled lightly and the ghost took it as an open invitation to join him. They watched the sun begin to fade turning the whole sky a blood red in color. "This is my favorite part," the jester giggled. "Red sun at set, the jester's a threat," Cicero sang lightly before laughing loudly at his own song. The assassin relaxed as Cicero was starting to behave like his old self again. Cicero held out the second sweet roll to the spirit.

"I don't eat," the ghost said quietly.

"Oh that's right. Cicero forgets. No intestines or stomach. Cicero would hate to have no stomach, would make eating so much more unfulfilling." Cicero chuckled again as he began to eat the second sweet roll. The spectral assassin stood next to Cicero as the jester sat on the grass watching the last of the sun's light die out. Soon the sky would be lit up with the bright greens and blues of the aurora borealis.

"What are you doing out here?" the ghost asked.

"Cicero is sitting, can't the kindly specter see?" crooned Cicero. The jester laughed loudly again, and then stopped when he noticed the serious look in the ghost's eyes. Cicero coughed once and then explained. "Yes, you see, the Listener said first thing in the morning we can return to Mother! Loyal Cicero is out here so at the earliest hint of morning, he can wake the Listener and we can leave as promised! That is all Cicero is doing, no sneaking or stabbing, just sitting and snacking!" He laughed again as he finished the last of the sweet roll and licked the icing from his fingers.

"Shouldn't you try instead to get some sleep?"

"Cicero hardly ever sleeps. You know that."

"Yes, your sunset to sunrise serenades are all too familiar to me. I had no idea there were that many words that rhymed with disembowel."

Cicero chuckled as he rubbed his chin in contemplation. Somehow the Listener always managed to sleep through the night despite the jester's singing.

"Cicero's singing might attract the creatures of the night, but Cicero does not worry about bears or wolves. They would not eat poor Cicero, oh no! Being a fool, they would think I taste too funny." Cicero once against burst out in laughter at his own jokes, and the Assassin couldn't help but allow a small smile to form on his face as well.

"May humble Cicero ask you a question?" The Spectral assassin looked over at the Jester and tilted his head in agreement. "Why is it that you allow the Listener to call you 'Buddy'? It seems so…. Inappropriate," Cicero then looked up at the spirit with a knowing smirk. ", Lucien Lachance."

The mention of his name made the ghost chuckle and nod his head. "Ahhh, it seems like an eternity since someone outside the Void has called me by that name." He turned to Cicero still smiling. "He is very young, and it's been so long since I was first cast into the Dread Father's arms. I cannot expect him to know much about me and my place in the Dark Brotherhood, and it's not as though my name has been brought up to him before."

Cicero pulled out his ebony dagger and held it up letting it shine in the moon's glow.

"But the Listener should! Cicero knows all about you. About your loyalty to the Black Hand. How you were the Speaker. How you met your grizzly end." Cicero looked at him. "The Fool of Hearts could sing many songs just with the tale alone." The jester's eyes then narrowed. "They were the real fools! Cicero would not have believed the lies!" he snarled. "Cicero would have fought alongside Lucien! Lucien did not kill the Listener!"

Lucien pulled out his spectral dagger and began to hold it up to the moons' light as Cicero had done. Even though it was slightly transparent, somehow the blade glistened.

"Your sentiments are appreciated Cicero, but I have long since forgiven those brothers and sisters for their mistake."

"How? Poor Cicero cannot understand how."

"They loved the Dark Brotherhood just as I had. All evidence had been pointed to me as the traitor and the murderer of the Listener. The only source to the Night Mother's words had just been slain. Tell me, jester, what would you do if you found that someone had killed our Listener?"

"Cicero would slice them from head to hip!" Cicero snarled, slashing his blade in the air madly as he leaped to his feet, his eyes burning with fury.

"And so did they. At least they thought they had the right man," Lucien sighed. "I forgive them because they were confused and needed someone to blame. Someone to release their heartbreak and anger onto." Cicero sheathed his blade as he stared at the spectral assassin, and the spirit lowered his blade. "I forgive them, and now I serve our Dread Father in the Void, as you and the Listener shall one day."

"Cicero sees how Lucien can forgive. The Fool of Hearts has no patience for those who wrongly accuse their own Brothers. Still, the forgiving spirit could tell the Listener his name. The Listener, well, listens!"

"It's almost flattering that he took the time to give me a name when none was given," answered Lucien as he sheathed his dagger. "Besides, those in the past who have summoned me only did so when they needed me in battle. Once I had gone back to Void, it would be some time before I was asked to return." The ghost looked at Cicero. "This Listener, KaNack, he is the first one who summons me just so I can be by his side whether in battle or not." He looked up at the stars and folded his arms. "It has given me a chance to stare up at the night sky and have time to appreciate my surroundings, and not have to worry about fighting off some threat. There is finally time to enjoy being in this world. It's the closest I've ever felt to being alive again."

Cicero pondered over this as he looked up at the sky as well. The stars had come out, and the beginning signs of the aurora borealis begun to blanket the black night sky.

"When the time comes to serve the Void, will Cicero be allowed to caper?" the jester asked meekly. The question only made Lucien smile more.

"The Dread Father knows all you have done Cicero. He has a place specially chosen for you. A position as his personal jester."

"Oh happy days and happy nights!" Cicero laughed as he cart-wheeled across the grass. "I have served well, I have! Sweet Cicero will continue to make both his Father and Mother proud!"

The Spectral Assassin could not help but laugh as Cicero continued to dance and sing loudly, thrilled that there would be merriment to spread once in the Void. The banter and antics of the jester provided a moment, just a moment of distraction and their guards were lowered. That was all that was needed. Four arrows shot out from the darkness, tearing through the spirit of Lucien and ripping out trails of blue mist. Lucien arched back and released a howl of pain before dispersing into a pile of blue smoky residue.

"Lucien?!" Cicero stopped dancing and spun around unsheathing his ebony blade. He knew that his friend would be alright, he was in the Void and there is no pain in the Void. The Listener would bring him back again as always. "Who's there?!" Cicero scanned the area before him, but saw no sign of any archers or any persons for that matter. Ahead was a dense grouping of trees that lead into the forest. The Fool of Hearts eyes narrowed, and he slowly moved towards the forest. "Madness is merry and merriment's might," he quietly sang in a dark guttural voice, his eyes never blinking, "when the jester comes calling with his knife in the night…" Then he saw a gleam of steel off armor from the moon's glow, and that was all Cicero needed to see his target. "Now you're mine!"

The Keeper launched into the dense woods, blade in hand, ready to slay all who dared to attack any member of the Dark Brotherhood, be they alive or dead. The Dread Father would soon have new victims to play with in the Void.


	2. Capture

The loud clanging of bells stirred KaNack from his deep rest. He had an uncanny ability to sleep through almost the loudest of banter. Cicero had more than prepared him for that. The bells from the Temple of the Divines were meant to be heard from all parts of Solitude of the time, and Proudspire was no exception. The rings alerted him that it was well past nine in the morning; damn those priestesses were prompt. The Argonian grumbled as he sat up and stretched. His bones cracked loudly as they popped back into place. He smiled down at his wife who was still pretending to be in deep rest even though the bells must have easily woken her as well.

"Morning, dear," KaNack whispered as he leaned over to kiss Brelyna on her cheek.

"I suppose you're off again," she murmured not even bothering to open her eyes. She was used to her husband running off to adventure in the early mornings.

"Well, I suppose I could stay and let dragons destroy all the villages, but…"

"It's fine," insisted the Dark Elf. She sat up as well so she could look into the pale white eyes of her husband. "Just promise me you won't be so long next time." She leaned against the headrest of the bed as the mage climbed out and began to gather supplies for his journey. "At least that Cicero didn't disturb us last night."

It dawned on the mage that the usually present Cicero had not shown up after he had his talk with his wife. The Argonian assumed that the jester was just living it up at the Winking Skeever, and had decided to spend the night at the inn rather than Proudspire. What really concerned him was that it was already well past morning and neither Cicero or Buddy had bothered to wake him up.

After dressing and finished getting his gear together, KaNack said his goodbyes to Brelyna and then left for the inn to pick up his missing party. He found the innkeeper at his usual post and inquired about missing jester.

"Cicero?" asked Vinius. "No, we didn't see him at all last night. Are you sure he was in Solitude?"

"How many jesters do you think I travel with?" KaNack growled. He was starting to get frustrated as this kind of absence was not part of Cicero's normal behavior. Leaving the Winking Skeever, the mage started for the great doors to Solitude. He grumbled to himself as he made his way to the stables. Perhaps Cicero had grown tired of waiting and traveled ahead to Dawnstar. It would make sense since he had been so concerned about tending to his Keeping duties.

It was only when KaNack saw that both Shadowmere and Frost were still in the stables, that the mage began to worry. Cicero never left without alerting him of his departure, and he certainly wouldn't walk to Dawnstar if he wanted to get to the Night Mother as quickly as possible.

Holding out his hand, the mage closed his eyes and began to concentrate. He clearly pictured both Cicero and the Spectral Assassin in his mind. He envisioned everything from the mist that swirled around the ghost to the patches and tears on the jester's robes. Once he had focused on the two, KaNack opened his eyes and was pleased with what he saw. A cloudy blue trail snaked its way up the road. As mastered at spells as he was, for some reason Clairvoyance was always the one that gave him the most trouble and had a horrible tendency to send him walking in circles. One had to have a clear image of what they were trying to find, otherwise the path would go off in all different sorts of directions. It required constant and vigilant focus.

The mage did his best to keep his followers clear in his head as he continued to cast the spell. The trail fortunately seemed to be working as it continued along a clear path on the road, and led to the cliff that faced Solitude's harbor

What awaited the Listener at the top of the overhang was enough to break his concentration.

"Buddy!"

The Argonian rushed over and fell to his knees in front of the smoking pile of blue ash before him. A wave of both fear and despair swept over the mage as he stared at the remains of his Spectral Assassin. The ghost he could bring back within the day, his priority had now become that of his Keeper. Cicero would never have allowed anything to happen to the spirit, and that must have meant that the two were ambushed.

" Cicero!" he called as he got to his feet. He was too frazzled and knew Clairvoyance would be useless at this point. The Listener rushed into the woods and then froze at the sight before him. Blood. There was blood spread out across the dirt and grass inside the forested area. Sprays of blood decorated the ground in patterns all too familiar to him. This was the Fool of Hearts' work.

If Cicero was alive and nearby there was a sure fire way of finding him despite the dense forest. The Argonian took in a deep breath and the ground shook just slightly as his shout rang out.

" LAAS YAH NIR!"

There was a flash, and then all life became visible to him. He could see the faint red silhouettes of small creatures such as foxes and rabbits, but none that were man sized. This did nothing to lift KaNack's spirit as he was running out of options on trying to locate his wayward jester.

Getting down onto a knee, he inspected the areas coated in blood and noticed indentations in the dirt. A body had been moved, but the fact that the blood was dry meant that it had happened hours ago.

The Argonian slowly began to follow the trail of blood that seemed to lead deeper in the woods. With the loss of the ghost, the mage could put two and two together that his companions had been attacked last night by multiple assailants; possibly bandits.

Part of the Listener wanted to believe that Cicero fought off his enemies and hid the bodies, but a thought resided in the back of KaNack's head that the jester perhaps took on more than he could.

The blood stains got smaller and less apparent, but one did not become the leader of assassins without being able to follow even the most miniscule of trails. The blood trail came almost to an end before KaNack heard a familiar growl and huff. Ahead was a large bull Cave Bear, feasting on something that was man sized. The bear's head lifted as he sniffed the air and then locked eyes with the Dark Brotherhood leader. Rising to its hind legs, it released a bellowing roar and then charged directly at its new target.

KaNack did not hesitate as he focused his energy, allowing it to flow from deep within and out from his fingertips. A glowing ball of fire quickly formed within his hands. He hurled the energy forward and the fireball erupted into the raging creature's face. There was a guttural howl, and then silence as the bear fell to the ground dead.

KaNack stepped around the giant carnivore and then sprinted towards the mangled corpse that the animal had been feeding on. It was obvious that the bear smelled the blood and dug up the shallow grave to eat whatever was inside it. The mage was soon upon the corpse, and he could tell it was human. This was not his loyal Keeper; he could see that almost immediately as it was dressed in a fine armor and not the Keeper's jester robes. The Listener released a loud sigh of relief. The jester must still be alive and perhaps off burying the other bodies close by.

The Argonian began to focus his energy once more. The least he could do for the poor bastard was incinerate the body so that no more scavengers would chew on it. As he was about to release the spell, something caught his eye. Most of the armor on the body had been destroyed, but the emblem on the chest was still slightly distinguishable. Upon closer inspection, the mage's eyes widened in horror and the fire vanished from between his hands.

"By Sithis, no," he hissed in utter shock. He knew exactly whom had attacked his companions and with Cicero disappearing without a trace, that could only mean that his attackers were too much for the jester to handle. There was a reason for that as well; these were no thieves, bandits nor Forsworn. This was something much worse.

The Listener ran from the corpse and used Whirlwind Sprint to travel as quickly as he could to the Solitude stables. He practically flew onto Shadowmere and gave a firm kick to the black steed's sides. The horse whinnied loudly but then took off in breakneck speed; the stallion knew that when his rider was this rough with him, there was a looming threat nearby.

Never had KaNack ridden as fast as he had been at that moment. He had to get to the Dawnstar Sanctuary and see Nazir. He would also have to summon his Spectral Assassin as soon as possible. Only one had been with Cicero during the attack, and he was trapped in the Void. The sudden appearance of this enemy was not just a threat to the current party, but to the whole Dark Brotherhood in general.

"I should have killed him when I had the chance!"

***** ****  
The jester's head pounded as he slowly began to recover. The last he remembered was having great fun and merriment with the others. Cicero was sure the other three did not see it that way, what with the screaming and then the silence when their throats were cut. Some people just didn't know how to have a good time. His face was rested on cold and damp wooden planks that jostled. Hooves clopped loudly, which did nothing to help with the pounding in his head. A cold breeze passed over making the jester shiver. It was much colder than it had been before; surely he was not in Solitude any longer.

Tight leather straps bounded the jester's hands and feet making movement much more difficult. Despite his current position, Cicero was more frustrated than worried. How was he to tend to the Night Mother while he was here? Who was to wake the Listener?

"Awake are you finally, madman?" a gruff voice asked.

Opening his eyes, Cicero saw he was in an open wagon with two armed soldiers standing guard, or rather sitting guard. One was larger and had stern look of disapproval on his face. The other looked small, young and quite nervous. The jester could have sworn he had seen their uniforms before, but could not place them as hard as he tried.

"Cicero's head hurts," the jester grumbled as he managed to get himself into a sitting position on the floor of the wagon. The sun shined bright overhead, and the jester winced turning his head away from the glare.

"Good!" the larger one on the right barked. "That's nothing compared to what you are in for, scum!"

"Don't antagonize him," said the smaller soldier. "Remember what the Commander said. He will try and get into your head. We aren't supposed to interact with the prisoner."

The Fool of Hearts looked at the two, and tilted his head to the side and gave them a warm smile.

"Sweet Cicero means no harm," the jester cooed at them. "Cicero won't get into your head. This fool can hardly do anything like this. Perhaps the kindly soldiers can loosen these binds for poor Cicero?" When the guard ignored him, the jester frowned and realized that playing nice was not going to have any effect on these men. Where was the fun in that? " Cicero remembers there being more of you."

"We had to bury them," the first soldier growled turning his head away from the Keeper. "The orders were to get you to the Commander as fast as possible and then meant leaving the bodies behind. They deserved to be buried in their hometowns surrounded by their loved ones, not some pit in the middle of the woods."

The Fool of Hearts could tell that having to leave his fallen companions in Solitude hurt and upset the soldier. This was the perfect moment to poke the injured bear with a stick.

"Talk about your literal 'dead weight'," Cicero stated before laughing heartily. The laughter was cut short however as the soldier launched at the jester and drove his steel boot hard into the smaller man's ribs. Cicero grunted loudly and gasped for air as breathing now had become antagonizing.

"Those were three of the finest Imperials I had ever gotten the chance to know, clown!" he roared. The soldier grabbed Cicero by the shirt and lifted him into a sitting position, until he was nose to nose with the jester as his eyes burned with an inner fire. He was close to killing Cicero right then and there. "You will show them the proper respect, or I thrash you until you learn to value life!"

"Salvarus! Stop!" cried the other soldier as he ran over and had to physically pull off Cicero's attacker. "The Commander needs him for questioning!"

The jester cowered against the back of wagon as he glared at the two soldiers.

"Imperials started it! You attacked poor Cicero and Lucien! What did Cicero and Lucien ever do to you?" Cicero snapped as he started to get frustrated with larger soldier's attitude.

"What in Oblivion is happening back there?" a third voice shouted. It was the man steering the wagon, and the ruckus had started to upset the horses as they nickered nervously.

Cicero smiled at larger soldier, and chuckled wickedly. Whatever plans were for the jester, he now knew that this Salvarus would get in trouble if he injured his quarry too badly. Now he could have some real fun. The jester tsked the man as he shook his head.

"Such treatment. Cicero will not use this particular traveling wagon again! He will NOT!"

The large soldier regained his composure and returned to his seat on the wagon. "Just keep quiet, clown."

"Clown? Cicero is no clown!" the Keeper snapped, insulted by the title. "Cicero is a jester! The Fool of Hearts!"

"Whatever you are, you're annoying!" Salvarus turned to the younger soldier. "Is this idiot really the man who killed three of our own within twenty seconds?"

"Cicero apologizes," the jester answered solemnly. Salvarus looked at his prisoner and an expression of surprise formed on his face. He thought the Keeper was sincere in his apology for killing his men. "Yes, Cicero is sorry. He used to be much faster. Should only take ten seconds to kill three men. Cicero will get it right next time! He promises!"

Salvarus' eyes narrowed and his hands squeezed together into tight fists. At this point it had become a game, and the jester wondered just much more he would be allowed to get away with before the soldier got himself in trouble again.

"Tell me, fellow Imperial. Where is Cicero's blade? He needs to keep it near and sharp."

"Damn you, damn the Brotherhood, and DAMN your blade!" the soldier roared at the Keeper as his skin began to turn red with pent up frustration.

"We aren't supposed to talk…"

"Shut up!" Salvarus snapped and the soldier quickly averted his eyes from the man. "Believe me, when it comes time for the Commander to question him I want to be right there to assist."

"Will there be torture?" Cicero asked as he perked up with excitement. "Oh, Cicero has never been tortured before! It sounds like fun!"

"By the Eight, give me strength to not throttle the little man," the larger soldier growled through gritted teeth. The jester could not be more pleased as his antics were slowly driving his captor to madness. Cicero began to suddenly blink rapidly and winced as if it hurt to keep his eyes open.

"Oh, dear! Oh, this is terrible! Poor Cicero!"

Salvarus ignored the jester, but the smaller man could not help but turn to their prisoner, slightly concerned that perhaps the funny man had been hurt more than they realized.

"Oh, Cicero has been suffering for a very long time now. Seeing spots! Seeing spots everywhere!"

"Have you seen a healer?" the younger soldier asked.

"No! Aren't you listening to Cicero? He's seen spots!"

The jester burst out into laughter and the soldier could not help but laugh as well. The fun was cut short when the young man's superior gave him a vicious scowl and his laughter quickly stopped.

After both soldiers had begun to ignore Cicero's banter, there was a long period of silence. Neither of the soldiers spoke to each other or even made eye contact. This was very boring and the Fool of Hearts did not like being bored.

"Cicero hates awkward silences," he muttered. "Are we almost there?"

Since the Imperials continued to ignore the jester, Cicero started to hum and whistle to himself as he looked around to see if any of the surroundings were familiar to him. The major problem with the land of Skyrim was that after a while the territories would begin to blend into one another, and it was near impossible to navigate without a map. However the light snow that covered the ground in the wooded area indicated that they were much farther North. There were mountains in the distance, but Cicero could not recognize them nor determine where he was presently in Skyrim. Another chilling wind blew past and the jester shivered.

"Cicero is cold. Cruel Imperials could have at least let Cicero wear some warmer armor. Does no one care if poor Cicero freezes?"

"You don't deserve to wear the armor of the Penitus Oculatus!" Salvarus snarled angrily finally breaking the long silence. Just the mention of the faction was enough to make even Cicero's stomach sink. He had never seen the soldiers for he had been hiding until it was safe to return to the Night Mother. The stories his Listener had told him about these soldiers though were more than enough to alert the jester to just how serious the situation had become.


	3. Silly Finn

Some time had passed since Cicero had been led to his new living quarters. He managed to get a quick look at where he was when the soldiers removed him from the wagon. It had been at least a year since the Fool of Hearts been there with his Listener, but he at least now had an idea of where in Skyrim he was.

As Salvarus and the younger soldier dragged the jester through the corridors, he took the opportunity to look around as much as he could to try to familiarize himself with his surroundings. The many rooms had been carved out of stone and caverns led to different areas that played host to more Penitus Oculatus soldiers. Cicero had counted at least twenty, and was sure there were even more, hiding like Falmer in tunnels.

Cicero's new room was not very welcoming at all. The stone walls were worn and some had crumbled with age. Torches lined the walls, and it was easily the brightest area in the structure. A cell had been installed strictly for Cicero as it was crudely built into the stone wall.

The soldiers had been kind enough to remove the jester's binds, but the kindness had been short lived as Salvarus practically kicked the smaller Imperial into the cell. After that, Cicero was left alone to his own devices. The room was empty as well his cell, save for a single sleeping mat. There were no chairs, no tables, no nothing! Minutes turned to hours, and soon the Fool of Hearts became so bored with his surroundings that he actually stood on his head hoping that a different perspective might at least make it somewhat interesting.

Eventually, the smaller Imperial from before appeared carrying a tray of bread and cheese. He had since removed his helmet, and now the Keeper could see the soldier clearly. He was young, much younger than he had thought. He could not be more than eighteen years of age. His face was partially covered by the boy's neck length brown hair. The soldier froze when he saw the sight of Cicero standing on his head and smiling out at him.

"We meet again! The one who survived the twenty seconds! The one who laughed with Cicero on the wagon!"

"I," the soldier was at a loss for words. The jester leaned forward, and did a quick tumble to his feet. He walked to the front of the cell and looked at the tray of food in the guard's hands.

"So hungry," he stated as he held his stomach. "Is that for Cicero?"

The Penitus Oculatus soldier didn't answer, he just held out the tray. The Keeper quickly grabbed the cheese and bread and began to eat it almost instantly. Once Cicero snatched the food, the soldier moved over to the door and began to stand guard, keeping his back to the jester.

Cicero stared at him as he continued to eat.

"What are you doing all the way over there? Cicero is over here!"

"I have to stand guard, and be ready when Commander Maro arrives," the boy answered, keeping his eyes locked on the doorway.

"What good is a guard if he is not guarding? You should keep a closer eye on Cicero. While you were looking at the door, he broke out of his cell. Simple child's play of a lock!"

The guard quickly spun around with his sword drawn, but was shocked to see the jester still secure in his cell.

"Gotcha!" Cicero laughed. "You should see the look on your face!"

The young solider grumbled as he sheathed his sword. This was by far the strangest man he had ever come across. Psychotic one moment, and a joker the next. The boy decided it might be in his best interest to keep his eyes on the prisoner. There was always the possibility that he was not kidding, and the fool could break out from his prison.

Cicero sighed and looked off to the corner of the room.

"Cicero must find his ebony dagger," he muttered as he stared into nothing. "Need to sharpen my blade. Make it shiny, gleamy." a wicked smile formed on his face as he thought about his weapon. "and, oh, so deadly." The jester turned his attention back to the soldier. "Cicero has told you his name. What is yours?"

"Mine?" The soldier couldn't believe that he was actually making small talk with a member of the Dark Brotherhood. Normal people fret or become aggressive when imprisoned. What could possibly be going through this jester's head?

"Bothersome Imperial! Do you not know your own name?"

"It's Vinius. Vinius Phineous."

The jester stared in disbelief for a few moments, and then slapped his knee as he started to laugh, and shake his head. "A rhyming name?" Cicero snickered. "I knew some men's names ended up in song, but usually they do something first!"

Cicero began to repeatedly sing the soldier's name over and over as he danced around in his small cell.

"If you find my name so amusing, you can just call me Finn, like everyone else does!" the young soldier barked at the jester. Cicero stopped dancing and looked at the boy in confusion.

"Finn? Sounds more like the name of slaughter fish to Cicero," the jester muttered as he leaned back against the cell wall and slid down to the floor. Despite the fool's antics, Finn still seemed willing to speak and listen to him. Cicero felt that talking was better than counting cracks in the wall. "Tell Cicero. Where does this Finn hail from?"

"Cyrodiil," Finn answered.

Cicero suddenly perked up at the mention of his homeland, and a smile once again formed on his face.

"Cicero is from Cyrodiil as well." The Keeper rested his head on his knees as he gazed out at the soldier. "Cicero had his reasons for leaving. Why would a boy as young as you want to run off?"

"It was only my mother and myself back there, " Finn answered. " It was getting harder for her to make ends meet. I am hoping by joining the Penitus Oculatus, I can make and send her enough money that she will not have to worry so much."

"Caring for his mother? You and Cicero have more in common than he thought," the jester mused as he once again rose to his feet and returned to the bars of his cell. "Cicero, too, cares for his mother. She is so far away right now. She needs poor Cicero to care for her. If only Cicero was not so slow in his killing. He would have not been caught, and would be tending to sweet Mother by now."

Finn was slightly more anxious, since Cicero had once again mentioned the killing. Against his better judgment, he continued to speak to the jester. "Is your mother a member of the Dark Brotherhood as well?"

The question made Cicero burst out in laughter at the absurdity of it. He laughed so hard that was almost started to cry.

"Is she part of the Dark Brotherhood?!" the fool howled. "You jest! You jest with the jester!" He laughed as he wiped the tears from his eyes. Slowly, his laughter began to die down, and the jester regained composure of himself. "Cicero likes you, Finn. You are much more fun than that Salvarus. He's no fun at all!" Cicero allowed his arms to hang out of the bars in his cell, and leaned onto it, grinning at his guard. "Finn should have joined the Dark Brotherhood instead. Lots of shiny, clinky coin to be had! Much more than what these soldiers could possibly offer."

"I don't think I could kill for money," Finn answered as he rubbed his shoulder. Cicero once again laughed loudly, which made the guard jump back in surprise.

"Not kill for money?!" Cicero cried. "Silly, Finn! Silly! What do you think a soldier does? Pick flowers?!"

"I," Finn grumbled as he looked to the side. "Damn, I guess you got me there."

"Cicero understands. Silly Finn just made silly choices. Cicero has made plenty of them, believe me!"

Finn leaned against the wall as he peered at the jester curiously. It was hard to believe that this merry and laughing fellow was the same person that had killed three of his fellow officers with hardly any difficulty.

He could not forget what he had seen the previous night. The jester's face had a dark yet expressionless look plastered on it and his killing technique was almost reminiscent of dancing. The flawless swings of the dagger seemed to never miss its intended target. It was only thanks to Salvarus striking the man in the head with the hilt of his sword, that the slaying had come to a stop. Six men had set out that night, and only three came back.

Cicero hummed happily to himself as his eyes wandered about the large empty chamber. Finn had to assume that this was some farce. There was no other explanation for this obvious assassin's sudden personality change.

"Do you always keep this act up?"

The Keeper looked at Finn and tilted his head to the side. He was confused by the question.

"Cicero does not understand what Silly Finn means."

"This merry man persona. This is just a way to trick people into believing you're harmless. So they don't see it coming when you kill them."

"Act? You think Cicero is an act?" The jester waved a finger at his guard, and shook his head disapprovingly. "Cicero is Cicero!" He then bowed to the soldier as he took off his cap. "The Fool of Hearts, at your service!"

Finn chuckled and rolled his eyes. There was no hope of trying to find sense or reason in the fool. "I think you're crazy."

"Crazy? Cicero?" The jester chuckled and then gave a menacing look towards Finn as a wicked smile formed on his face and he growled, "That's madness."

Finn continued to watch over his prisoner. Cicero did not mind his captor's company, as he was very amusing. As the two waited for the Commander to appear, the fool regaled his guard with humorous tales. Finn had tried to remain professional, could not help but laugh at some of the ridiculous stories.

As Cicero continued to tell jokes and stories, he scraped small bits of dust and gravel from the wall, collecting them in his other hand.

"If you are trying to dig a tunnel out, I think the Commander will arrive before you get very far."

" Silly Finn, thinks he's so clever. Doesn't know Cicero well at all."

"And you're clever?" Finn asked with a smirk.

" Cicero is the cleverest of them all!" the jester boasted as he continued to scratch at the wall.

" Fine then, answer me this. What is so fragile that it can be broken by merely saying its name?"

Cicero stopped what he was doing and spun around with a huge grin on his face. " Riddles? You wish to challenge Cicero with riddles?" The Keeper could not contain his excitement as Finn merely nodded in agreement. " Easy! Too easy! Why, the answer is silence! Silence is that fragile! Finn must do better than that!"

"Alright." Finn could not help but smirk as well. He couldn't explain it, but Cicero was becoming less of a prisoner to him and more of a companion. "Answer me this, jester. A farmer has a barrel that is filled with a hundred gallons of oil. The farmer added something to the oil, and now it weighs less than a hundred gallons. What did the farmer add?"

"Hmmm." Cicero rubbed at his chin as went into thought. "Ah! Fire! The farmer set the oil on fire! Now that is a farmer after my own heart!" The Keeper chuckled and nodded his head. "Yes, Finn! Cicero is clever! Let's see how clever you are!"

"Try your best. I'm pretty good with riddles," Finn challenged.

"So is Cicero," he giggled. "I am what men love more than life. Hate more than death or mortal strife. I am what the content desire. The poor have, the rich require. The miser spends me, the spendthrift saves, and all men carry me to their graves." The jester grinned wickedly at Finn. "What am I?"

The Imperial was dumbfounded. He rattled his brain, trying to come up with an answer to Cicero's riddle. He growled in frustration and ground his knuckles into his temple.

" Don't hurt yourself. It's only a riddle. Until you answer it, it just means that I am still the cleverest."

"I'll get it! I just need to think."

"Finn!" a gruff voice barked. The younger soldier quickly stood up straight with his arms to his side as Salvarus entered the room. The older Imperial glared at Cicero and then turned back to Finn. "Commander Maro has just arrived. He will be here soon." He turned back to Cicero. "You will be on your best behavior!"

"Cicero always behaves," the jester answered as if he was insulted. "The Commander may not find me at my 'best' very inviting though."

The Keeper turned away from the larger soldier and peeked into his cupped hands. The jester giggled to himself as he peered into an opening in his hands. The older agent frowned when he saw this.

"What's that you have there?" Salvarus growled.

Cicero looked back at the Penitus Oculatus agent, and shook his head at him.

"Cicero cannot tell you. It's a surprise!"

Salvarus stormed over to the cell and pounded on the bars making the jester jump slightly.

"Show it to me!"

"That would spoil the surprise!" the Keeper whined as he held his cupped hands away from the soldier.

"Now!"

Cicero rolled his eyes and made his way towards the cell door, still keeping his hands firmly clasped together. "Stupid Penitus Oculatus is ruining this for Cicero. However, I might still be able to pull off the surprise."

"Show me what you have in your hands," Salvarus ordered Cicero. " I will not ask again."

"Oh, very well," sighed Cicero. He very slowly began to open his hands, and Salvarus leaned forward to see exactly what the jester was hiding. The Keeper then hurled the dirt, dust and pebbles he had collected right into the Imperial's eyes.

"Surprise!" Cicero chimed loudly.

Salvarus screamed in pain as he rubbed at his eyes, blinded from Cicero's attack.

"It worked! It worked! Weren't you surprised?" Cicero laughed as he clapped his hands, pleased with his accomplishment. Finn hurried over to try and help his fellow soldier, but Salvarus shoved him away.

"You bastard! I'll cut you to pieces!"

Even though he could barely see, Salvarus pulled a set of keys from his satchel and started for the cell door.

"Yes! Yes! Come and join Cicero!"

Finn noticed the change in the jester's eyes. They had become more focused and the expression changed from one of joy to one of menace. "Yes, come and join Cicero. I've have been just dying to meet with you again. You too will be DYING to meet me."

Salvarus was about to unlock the cell, when a third person entered the room. He was another Imperial, tall and proud. He frowned at the sight before him.

"Salvarus!" he barked loudly. The soldier spun around, and just like Finn, stood straight with his arms to his side. He could only manage to open one eye to see, still suffering from the jester's trick.

"Commander Maro, I…"

"Am I really seeing this? Half blind and you're going to unlock an assassin's cell?" Maro shook his head he approached Salvarus, and poked him hard in the chest. "It's that kind of irrational thinking that got your father killed! Do you think he needs a weapon to slay you?"

"I'm sorry, Commander Maro," Salvarus answered softly. He backed away from the officer and joined Finn's side as he resumed trying to remove the dirt from his eyes.

"Oh! Maro ruined all of Cicero's fun!" the jester whined. Maro quickly turned back to the Keeper, his expression still hadn't changed. "All that planning, and for what? NOTHING!" he snarled.

"So, this is the infamous Keeper?" Maro folded his arms as he looked Cicero over. "I had heard that it was a fool, but I hadn't expected him to actually be…" Maro couldn't even finish his sentence. "You and your little Brotherhood have been doing a rather efficient job of keeping yourselves hidden."

The commander began to pace in front of the cell. Cicero merely glared at him. The merry side was still trying to work its way back into the jester's state of mind.

"We did manage to find out that the main sanctuary in somewhere within The Pale. Damned if we've been able to find it."

"Did Commander Maro ask for directions?" the Keeper hissed.

"See, that is what I thought you might be able to help us with. If you are willing to cooperate with us, I will see that no charges are brought upon you. You will be pardoned for all past crimes and be allowed to roam Skyrim." Maro smiled as he folded his arms. "I think it's a rather fair trade."

"Lose my reputation as a killer?!" cried the jester. "Cicero would never hear the end of it!" He placed his thumb on his nose and wiggled his fingers at the commander. "You are wasting your time! You will get nothing from the Fool of Hearts."

"Have it your way," Maro answered as he nodded his head. "It's been a long day for me, as it has been for you as well, I'm sure. We'll continue this conversation tomorrow."

"Cicero looks forward to it," the Keeper growled.

Commander Maro turned back to the two soldiers and pointed at the younger.

"You there! Boy! What's your name?"

"Finn, sir!"

"Walk with me; I need to meet with the other Penitus Oculatus agents." He then looked at the other solider that had finally cleared his eyes. "Salvarus! You're to stand watch over this man. I do not want to find out he's escaped because you let this fool get the best of you!"

Salvarus saluted his commander.

"Yes, Sir!"

The commander then left the cell room with Finn following close behind. The large Imperial released a sigh of relief, and then glared over at the jester who was waving at him.

"Cicero failed to mention that he rarely ever sleeps."

"I don't care."

"I do like to sing though!"

"What?!" He pointed a finger at Cicero. "You will NOT be singing!"

"If Salvarus wants to stop Cicero, all he has to do is open this door," the jester purred. The soldier growled in frustration and folded his arms in protest. "Oh, goody! This first verse is one I like to call, 'The fair maid, Nelly'!"


	4. Interrogation

KaNack stormed into the Dawnstar Sanctuary and paused only slightly as he went past the Night Mother. Whenever she had something important to tell him, she would usually immediately contact him near the entrance. She was silent though, and the Argonian continued to run in the sanctuary past Babette. She was startled as her leader hurried past, not even acknowledging her presence. The Unchild knew that obviously something had gone wrong, and she hurried after him.

"Nazir!" the Listener barked loudly as he stopped in the meeting room in the sanctuary. The center of the stronghold provided a large open space, which had since been decorated with a large wooden table and comfy plush chairs. All Dark Brotherhood discussions and meetings took place here.

Nazir appeared from one of the many holes in the sanctuary, and looked more than slightly annoyed by tone taken by his leader. Babette also caught up with KaNack, but she was more concerned than anything.

"Something bad has happened, hasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," KaNack growled as he collapsed into his chair. He held out his hand and tried to summon his Spectral Assassin, but it was still too soon. He cursed inwardly and ran his hands through his feather-like hair. "We have very big problem. The Penitus Oculatus have returned to Skyrim."

"It can't be," whispered Babette.

"I saw their armor with my own eyes."

"Impossible! They haven't been here since you successful assassinated the Emperor!" Nazir barked. "It was probably some bandit that had gotten a hold of a set of their armor. You left plenty of bodies behind for the plundering."

"Normal bandits do NOT get the best of Cicero or my spirit!" KaNack snarled at Nazir. The Redguard finally took the time to notice that neither of the Listener's constant companions was nearby.

"Cicero?" muttered Nazir.

"The last time I saw him was last night. This morning all I found was lots of blood and Buddy's ashes. I should be able to summon him soon. He might be able to shed some light on this."

"Why would the Penitus Oculatus still be here?" asked Babette. "You killed Maro, didn't you?"

"I killed a 'Maro'," the Argonian growled. "I was worried that by killing the Commander on the docks, I would somehow trip an early alert. I didn't want anyone to know I was there before boarding the ship." The Listener's eyes narrowed. "Buddy and I killed every last man on that ship before leaving. Leaving Maro alive, however, was like only chopping the top part off a weed. The roots remained to allow it to grow once again."

"Do you think Cicero is dead?"

"My gut says no. I would think that the Keeper would be too vital a prize for Maro to just have eliminated." KaNack looked down at the table. "He'll probably try and find out where we are. He most likely wants to massacre each and every last one of us."

"Cicero may be a fool," said Babette as she put a small comforting hand on her leader's arm, "but he is no traitor. All his secrets would go to the grave with him."

"That is what I'm afraid of," hissed KaNack. "We almost lost everyone because of Astrid's poor judgment. I am NOT going to lose a man to those animals!" The Dark Brotherhood leader turned to Nazir. "Where are all the initiates?"

"Out on assignment."

"Damn. Prepare the hawks. We need to get them back here. All of them. Without Cicero, the Night Mother cannot be properly kept and preserved."

"They have to fulfill their Black Sacraments!" exclaimed Nazir in frustration. "Maybe one of us can try to tend to her. Give us more time before…"

"No one, but the Keeper will touch the Night Mother!" KaNack roared, slamming his hands onto the table as he stood out of his seat. His pale white eyes stared right into the Redguard's soul. "Do you have any idea what it must take to keep her connected to this plane? Our Lady's body has been protected and maintained since the Second Era! I will NOT allow her to fall in this age, because I allowed inexperienced hands to treat her!"

The mage trembled with rage as he continued to stare furiously at his fellow Brother.

"Only a Keeper can care for our lady! No Keeper means that the Night Mother will not be properly preserved! There will be no more Black Sacraments if Cicero is kept from the Dark Brotherhood! Sithis knows how much time we have before the cord that connects me to her is severed permanently!" The Listener pointed at Nazir. "Send the hawks, NOW!"

"Yes, Listener," he answered quietly before disappearing into the back where the messenger hawks were kept. KaNack slowly slid back into his chair as he covered his eyes. He suddenly felt exhausted; the Dark Brotherhood had come back so strongly. It was amazing how the removal of one person could lead to the downfall of it.

The small vampire took a seat in the chair next to KaNack, and rested her head on her hands as she looked at him.

"I've seen the Dark Brotherhood go through many hard times, friend. We'll prevail from this as always." The unchild gave the mage a few moments of silence before speaking again. "Has the Night Mother has spoken to you about this yet?"

"Silent as the grave," KaNack sighed. "You would think that the safe return of the Keeper would be her top priority."

"Maybe she's testing you," Babette answered simply. The statement made the Argonian uncover his eyes to stare at the alchemist. "She's been known to do that. Challenging the drive and worthiness of the Black Hand leader. "She smiled at the mage. "Don't worry, you'll pass the test. I have faith in you."

Nazir hurried back into the congregation room and took his seat, next to Babette.

"The hawks have been sent. What do we do now?"

"We wait. Alert me the moment the sun goes down."

Nazir and Babette went off to resume their normal duties as the Listener remained seated in his seat. He had to be patient. He could conjure thralls, familiars and even bound weapons with no difficulty at all. The Spectral Assassin was special; it was the only spell that forced the mage to wait, before summoning him again.

Hours passed, and still the Argonian endured the passage of time, seeming to be in almost a trance. It wasn't until much later that Babette returned once again, and leaned over so she was looking into her Listener's eyes.

"Dusk is upon us, friend," she stated gently.

KaNack wasted no time as he stood out of his chair and threw out an arm with his palm exposed. No sooner had he done so, that there was a cylinder of blue, swirling mist, followed by the arrival of the Spectral Assassin.

Lucien slowly rose his head and smiled when he saw the faces of his brother and sister from outside the Void.

"My Listener," he answered softly with a slight bow of his head.

"Buddy, you need to tell me everything that happened last night!" KaNack left the table and briskly walked over to the spirit. "What did you manage to see?"

"The night sky, Cicero's dancing," Lucien's eyes narrowed as he thought about his last encounter in the living world, "then arrows."

"I thought as much. The Penitus Oculatus have decided to finally strike once again at the Dark Brotherhood. Tell me; did you hear anything? Was there any mention of where they might have decided to make base?"

"Regrettably, I was hardly in the fray long enough to even see my assailants. Yet, I was allowed by our Dread Father to share my…"The spirits paused for a moment as he contemplated the last twenty-four hours, "disdain with those agents that the jester cast into the Void." Lucien chuckled darkly. "It was a very lengthy conversation."

"Was there any news in the Void? Did those thralls tell you anything?"

The Spectral Assassin frowned once more and folded his arms in disapproval of the question

"The Void is not a place where all information is willingly dispersed," he uttered in a reprimanding tone. "Is it not enough that the Night Mother alerts us to the many who call out to her? The absolute knowledge that belongs to deities is not a gift to be shared with those of the mortal plane!"

"I told you it would be a test," Babette chimed as she joined the Argonian's side. KaNack glared down at vampire, and then looked back at the spirit.

"Since you have not told me otherwise, Cicero must not be in the Void." Lucien only nodded his head. "This confirms my conviction that Commander Maro is keeping him alive somewhere."

"Where though?" asked Babette. "Skyrim is a very big place, and in the space of a day he could have been taken to any number of places."

The Listener was silent, wracking his brain trying to think of a possible solution. Babette was correct. Riding about Skyrim in search for the Keeper would only waste time. They would need some proper direction before they began their mission. The Redguard, hearing the banter, made his way back to the room. KaNack's head suddenly lifted, and he pounded his fist into an open palm.

"I've got it! Buddy, Nazir, you come with me! Babette, you stay here and wait for the initiates to arrive!"

The Spectral Assassin and Redguard kept close to the mage as he rushed to the stables. KaNack worked on Shadowmere's saddle as Nazir prepared his horse, as well.

"What have you got in mind?" Nazir asked.

"She's not the most inviting person in Skyrim, but she just might have answers as to where our brother is being held." KaNack mounted the dark steed, then offered a hand to the Spectral Assassin, pulling him up onto the horse's back as well. Nazir got onto his horse as well and rode it over to the Listener.

"Who is that?"

"Olava!" the Argonian announced as he took off on Shadowmere. "To Whiterun!"

"Olava?" Nazir muttered to himself as he rode off on his horse to catch up with his leader. "She's not going to be happy about this."

Cicero had been up all night, singing song after song to his unwilling audience. Every time a new guard came to relieve the other of his duty, the show would continue. The agents could scream to their hearts desired for the jester to 'shut up', but it would do them no good.

Finally, dawn had come and a new day presented itself to Skyrim. Commander Maro arrived with Salvarus close behind, carrying a chair. Cicero had just finished his latest song, regarding a fantastic tale of cheese rain.

"You're relieved, soldier," Maro announced as he stood in front of the jester's cell.

"Oh, thank Mara!" the agent could not have left the prison room fast enough.

Maro could only smile at the jester peering out at him with a huge grin of his own.

"What did you do to my men? At first they were all lining up to guard you, but now it seems I can't get any volunteers."

"Some people just have no appreciation for the arts," Cicero sighed with a shrug. "Ah, Salvarus! Come back for more?"

"You could say that," the agent growled as he set the chair in the center of the small room.

"Oh! You're decorating! Finally! This room is so dull!"

"Cicero," started the Commander. "Be cooperative and hold your wrists out. I don't want your hands free when we take you out for questioning."

"Cicero would rather not. My hands have been bound enough, thank you very much!"

"Either do it willingly, or Salvarus can shoot you with an arrow coated in paralysis poison. Either way it's going to happen. You'll find that the Penitus Oculatus will always give you options."

"Options, my eye," the jester growled as he held his wrists out from between the bars of his cell.

Salvarus cautiously approached Cicero, expecting another trick. When he saw that the Keeper was not going to pull anything, Salvarus bound the jester's wrists much tighter than necessary, making Cicero wince slightly in pain. Only after he was perfectly secured, did Salvarus once again pull out the keys and unlock the cell. Despite his loathing for the prisoner, the agent remained professional, and led Cicero to the chair. That didn't stop him from pushing the jester roughly into it though. Old habits die hard.

"Oh! Much better!" Cicero exclaimed, not at all fazed by his rough treatment. "I do appreciate you going through all this trouble for poor Cicero."

Commander Maro pointed at Salvarus.

"Salvarus, I want you to stand back there. I know you wish to do great harm to this man, but I am going to need you to restrain yourself. No matter what this jester says or does, I want you to stand there and not do anything to interfere. Understood?"

"Yes, Commander," Salvarus answered quickly before moving a spot in the back.

"Your dog is very well trained, Maro," the Keeper snickered. "Learns quickly!"

"Perhaps you can follow suit." The Commander stood in front of the jester as he held his hands behind his back. "Cicero," Maro sighed as he shook his head. "One does not become the Dark Brotherhood leader's right hand man by being an imbecile. Please drop this jester charade."

"Why do all the Penitus Oculatus think I'm acting?" he asked. "Why shouldn't a jester be right there next to his leader? Kings and emperors have relied on the underlying wisdom of their merry men for hundreds of years! They were certainly not fools. Well, except that Mede the Second fellow. He did not have a jester, and just look what happened to him!"

The jester grunted as Maro grasped the back of fool's neck in a painfully sharp grasp. Cicero could see that this commander had run out of patience as soon as the dead emperor was brought up.

"Too soon?" Cicero asked meekly. Maro's eyes were locked in a cold stare; playing games with this man's head might not have been in the Keeper's best interest.

"I am going to make this very simple," Maro growled. "I am going to ask you a question, and you are going to give me an answer. Do you think you can follow those instructions?"

"Of course! Humble Cicero will do as he's told."

The commander released his grip on the jester's neck and then folded his arms. "I'm glad we're finally starting to understand one another."

Maro knew that the jester at any point in time would try and pull some kind of deception during the questioning, and felt it would be better to start with simple basic questions.

"Tell me, who is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood?"

"Why! The Listener, of course!" chimed Cicero. "Everyone knows that it's the Listener who has the honor of hearing our dear lady's voice. She hears the cries of her children, and my brothers and sisters see to it that those cries are answered. Humble Cicero has seen to it that Listener keeps to the Old Ways! The right ways! The Listener has made Cicero so very happy! "

"You are cooperating, but I was hoping more for a name," stated Maro.

"Name?" The jester looked from side to side in confusion. "Oh, poor Cicero only knows him as the Listener. That is what he is called you see! I'm too busy tending to Mother to really have learned his name."

"I find that hard to believe. At least we know it's a man. It seems the reign of Astrid did come to a stop after our last visit to the sanctuary."

"Her death was not mourned by many, I can tell you that much," Cicero hissed. The mere mention of the old leader's name was enough to make the Keeper's blood boil. "Pretender! Offender! Betrayer!"

"Astrid was a fool to trust us. I might have held up my side of the deal, if she hadn't sent that assassin to kill my son."

"When a man's son becomes a soldier, there is always the risk of death," Cicero answered almost sympathetically. "Cicero has learned that no one is safe as long as one enemy is left breathing. If you wished your son long life, perhaps you should have made him a chef."

Maro sighed and looked to the side as he thought about his son, and how he met his end in Whiterun.

"Then again," chirped Cicero suddenly, "the Gourmet was a chef, and that didn't keep him any safer from assassination, did it?" The jester laughed and then released a cry of pain as Maro punched the fool right in his temple. The Keeper's head rang as the pain seemed to linger on endlessly.

"Don't push your luck with me," Maro warned the jester. "Unlike those so called 'brothers' of yours, I will not put up with your sick sense of comedy."

Salvarus could not hold back a smug chuckle as he saw the Keeper in pain. Maro regained composure and waited until Cicero had stopped muttering quietly to himself before resuming the questioning.

"Answer me honestly, Cicero. Where is the sanctuary?"

Cicero released a deep sigh and shook his head before looking up at Maro.

"The Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary is in Falkreath. Maro has been there already," the fool answered solemnly.

"That's the old sanctuary," Maro growled through gritted teeth. " I KNOW where that one is. I am asking you for the one where your leader resides."

"The Listener has been to all of the sanctuaries in Skyrim," Cicero answered softly. "More sanctuaries than Cicero could ever have hoped for. He resides all over Skyrim. Markarth, Riften, Windhelm…"

"Stop avoiding the question!" snarled the commander as he got in Cicero's face. "Joking or not, you are still being difficult! Give me a straight answer! Where is the current sanctuary in The Pale?"

"Cicero is tired suddenly," the Keeper muttered no longer looking into Maro's eyes. "The light is hurting my eyes."

"If you think you're going to get any sympathy from me…"

"Foolish Maro does not understand," Cicero stated, looking at the floor sadly. "He could yell and scream all he wanted, but Cicero would not be able to answer his question."

"What do you mean, 'would not'?"

"The Five Tenets," the jester answered as he raised his head to stare at Maro. "These are rules set by the Dark Brotherhood. The Second Tenet is to never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. You see?" Cicero cried out. "Poor Cicero simply cannot answer Maro's question! The wrath of Sithis is too great!"

"You're about to face the wrath of me!" Maro snarled at the fool. "Do you honestly believe that this cult of yours is as loyal as you think? Astrid told me all about how fed up she was with this notion of rules and Tenets! That was why she came to me! No one really follows them or even believes in them."

"Astrid," the jester growled out. He then looked up at Maro menacingly. "Astrid was no sister! Astrid was a stupid girl with a knife that wanted to play dress up! If you are using her as an example, she is poor one! Fake! Fake! Everything about her was fake! She rejected the Old Ways and nearly led the Dark Brotherhood to its death! Just because Cicero is a fool, does not mean he is wrong! The Listener!"

Cicero stopped his rant as he looked from side to side. It was as though by mentioning the Dark Brotherhood leader caused a wave of calm to wash over the Keeper. "The Listener made everything right. He knew Astrid was a pretender, that's why he refused to kill poor Cicero. He could break that Tenet; he knew he would be safe from the wrath of Sithis. He knew she was false. Yes, he spared me, and I am alive and she is dead. He understood. He believed in Cicero, he believed in the Old Ways. That's why he's the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood. That is why the Night Mother chose him." Cicero once again allowed his head to drop once more. His tirade did nothing to ease his exhaustion.

The commander of the Penitus Oculatus stood in silence. He had taken in every word of Cicero's outburst. He could not disagree that behind the jester mask was a functioning and rational man. He had a goal, however, to destroy the Dark Brotherhood, and he was set out to do so.

"Again about this Night Mother. Do you honestly expect me to believe that a rotting elf corpse is speaking from beyond the grave to this man you call the Listener?"

Cicero's head shot up as he stared as Maro. Gone was the weariness, now all that resided in the jester was pure, white, rage.

"It's just so preposterous! I don't blame Astrid for rejecting the notion. Your Listener is about as false as she was! He doesn't hear that woman's voice; he's just collecting them by word of mouth! There is no Listener." He pointed a finger accusingly at the jester. "And that filthy, old corpse you fawn over?" He shook his head. "That is nothing but a stiff carcass that you display like a centerpiece."

Maro saw Cicero tremble slightly. He could see the anger, but felt that he had at least gotten through to the Keeper.

"Now, I am going to ask you again. Where is the sanctuary in the Pale?"

"Come closer," Cicero muttered quietly. "I need to share something with you."

Commander Maro leaned down so that he was nose to nose with the fool.

"What is that?"

Maro got his answer fairly quickly as Cicero slammed his forehead directly into the Commander's face. There as a sickening thud sound upon impact. Maro grunted in pain as he staggered back, holding a hand to his face.

"The First Tenet!" Cicero screamed out at him. "Never dishonor the Night Mother! To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis!"

Maro removed his hands and saw that it was covered in blood. Clearly, between him and the jester, he got the worst of the headbutt. He stared Cicero furiously, panting in frustration and anger. He then turned to Salvarus who, true to his word, remained where he was stationed. It was obvious that it took a great deal of restraint to keep from attacking the bound Imperial.

"Salvarus," Maro growled out.

"Yes, sir?"

"Remember how I told you to restrain yourself from harming this man?"

"Yes, sir! I remained at my post as ordered!"

"Good lad." Still staring at the agent, Maro pointed in Cicero's direction. "Until I say otherwise, consider that order lifted!"


	5. Olava and Kind Finn

Nazir and KaNack had ridden all through the night to get to Whiterun. The sun had just begun to creep over the mountains as the large stronghold came into view. The Argonian was exhausted, having not had any sleep in at least two days, but he fought through his fatigue. The three stopped and dropped the horses off at the stables before making their way to the gated entry to Whiterun. Two Imperial soldiers stopped them at the gate.

"Halt! What business does an Argonian have here?" asked one.

"What is with that ghost?" the other barked as he pointed at Lucien. "We don't need you causing trouble in Whiterun! We know your kind, always sneaking about!"

KaNack was in no mood for the soldiers' attitude, and pulled off his dragon priest mask, glaring at them.

"I fought tooth and nail to protect Whiterun from Ulfric's army, and this is how I am greeted?" the Argonian growled. The two soldiers were startled as they recognized KaNack from fighting alongside General Tullius.

"Legate KaNack! We had no idea it was…."

"Of course you didn't! I see that ridding Skyrim of Ulfric has changed nothing! Apparently Nords aren't the only racists! Would you mind opening the gate, or perhaps I should send a report to the General about your intolerance towards the beast races of Skyrim ?"

"That won't be necessary! We'll open the gate!"

"Of course! Right away!"

As the two guards started to open the gates to Whiterun, Nazir turned to his leader with a look of amusement.

"You don't take prejudice lightly from anyone in Skyrim, do you?"

"Only one person could talk to me like that and get away with it," muttered the Argonian, "and she's the Jarl of Riften."

The doors were opened, and the three Dark Brotherhood members entered the town of Whiterun. It felt like a homecoming to the mage. Even after a year of absence, nothing much had changed in the village.

The blacksmith's wife was busy tanning hide in front of the shop, and up ahead the ranting of Heimskr could be heard. Even after Ulfric's defeat, the man would not stop speaking the name of Talos.

There was no time for reminiscing though, there was only one reason the trio had come to Whiterun. The Listener led his men to behind the blacksmith's shop, and there as always, was Olava the Feeble. She was settled on the small chair in front of her house seeming to be looking at nothing.

As they approached, the old woman picked up her head.

"Oh, it's you again. You brought friends this time I see." Olava then smiled as she gazed at the Spectral Assassin. "Very old friends."

"My lady," Lucien said with a bow of his head.

"Olava," started KaNack. "Please, if there was ever a time we needed your gift, it would be now." The Argonian took a knee so he was looking at her eye-to-eye. "One of our brothers, the Keeper, has been taken by the Penitus Oculatus. I need your help to find out where he is."

Olava was taken aback, and she stood up, scowling at the three.

"You are persistent, aren't you?" she hissed. KaNack stood up as well, shocked at the seer's reaction. "I gave you your reading already. My gifts are not some tools to be used on a whim. Whatever problems you are dealing with, I'm sure you can handle it on your own." She leaned closer to KaNack. "You're the 'Family's' leader. Lead, and leave me be."

The old woman turned back and entered her house, slamming the door behind her.

"Well," started Nazir. "That could have gone better." He looked at the mage. "What's plan B?"

"Continue with Plan A," the Listener growled. "Wait here." He opened the door to Olava's house and stormed inside.

"Why am I not surprised?" the Redguard sighed. He looked over at the Spectral Assassin. "Is he always this stubborn? You're with him more than I am."

"When there is cause worth fighting for, he will not bend his will to any man, monster or deity," Lucien answered as he folded his arms with a grin. The ghost had seen many different leaders of the Black Hand come and go, but this young Argonian had more heart and drive than any.

Olava was startled when she saw that the mage had entered her home. She pointed at the door furiously.

"Get out of here this instant! How dare you!" she barked at him.

"How dare YOU!" KaNack snarled at her as he pointed at her accusingly. "You call yourself a friend to the Brotherhood?" His eyes narrowed. "We come to you in our time of need and you cast us away like mangy, stray dogs!"

"I told you already. I have given you my reading. Don't think you can bully me to get your way!"

KaNack quickly stormed over to her and the woman fell back into a chair.

"You think this is for my personal gain?" he growled. "You think I wouldn't bother you unless I had no other choice? The Keeper is gone! The Night Mother's voice has vanished! Don't you understand? The Penitus Oculatus mean to destroy us!"

"I don't see why this should include me!" Olava cried. "Those men have nothing to do with me!"

KaNack stared at Olava in disbelief.

"Nothing to…?" he started. "Nothing to do with you?!" KaNack's hands crackled with electricity as his anger grew.

"Be careful!" she exclaimed.

"Was Gabrielle not your friend?" he shouted. "Did she mean nothing to you?" The lightning continued to spark from his fingers. "Olava, you have no idea what these agents have done!"

The Argonian was now in her face, his white eyes had a haunt to them. They had seen things that many could not bear. The sparks has since died down, but there was still a strong force rushing through the mage's body.

"You were not there," he said in a hushed voice. "You did not see what they did." He released a shudder as the thought of the Falkreath Sanctuary came back to him.

"Poor Festus," he choked out. "They shot him so full of arrows; there was hardly any face to recognize." The Argonian trembled as the bloodcurdling memories returned in full force. "There was fire everywhere, I could barely see anything. My home, my world had become an inferno of fear and hate. I saw Arnbjorn fall before my eyes as they butchered him like an ox." KaNack turned away from Olava, his eyes shut as the horror continued to flash in his head.

"Veezara, my Argonian brother, the last of the Shadowscales. His legacy died along with him as he tried to protect us. Then Gabriella," he whispered. The Listened opened his eyes as he stared at Olava. Tears threatened to spill as he thought about all his fallen comrades, but he refused to cry in front of the seer. "Gabriella was struck down. It looked like she didn't even have a chance to defend herself."

The mage fell back into a chair that was next Olava's and held his face in his hands. The woman was startled by the description that the Dark Brotherhood leader had told her. She could not help but put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"The Penitus Oculatus will not stop until all of us are dead," he sighed out. "As long as they have the Keeper, they will win. The Night Mother will fall to pieces and her words will be silenced forever." He stared at Olava. "If we allow that to happen, they win. Those monsters will win."

Olava reached over to a nearby teapot and pour the Argonian a cup. The mage graciously accepted it, but only stared into its contents.

"I know it is a lot to ask, Olava. This is not something I do for my own gain. I do it for my friends, my family." He stared at her. "The Keeper, Cicero, he is not only the one who tends to the Night Mother; he is not only my loyal brother in arms," the Argonian sighed deeply before he continued, "he's my dearest friend. If anything happened to him, I would never be able to live with myself. That is why I am asking," he looked at her desperately. "I am begging you. Please help me. Don't let these men win after all the pain they have caused. Don't let the Brotherhood die."

The two remained in silence at Olava gazed at the Listener with sympathy. It takes a strong man to fight for his loved ones; it takes an even stronger one to expose weakness for them. The mage did not come to her with demands, threats or blackmail. He poured his soul out to her so she could understand what he was fighting for and why.

"You've seen and dealt with more in such a short time than most men have in their whole lives," she told him gently. "You have lied, you have killed, you have committed treason," Olava smiled at him, "but you have loved, you have defended and you have sacrificed. Your responsibilities are a huge weight to bear. There is only so much a single man can do, no matter how strong or gifted he is."

The seer took KaNack's hands in hers.

"I will help you, child. No one should have to do everything alone."

The mage swallowed and bowed his head to her.

"Thank you, Olava."

The woman shut her eyes and deeply focused as she read the Argonian's aura and all the ties connected to it. Every face the mage had ever seen, every piece of earth that touched his feet, every sensation that he had ever felt was a part of him, and that was what Olava could sense and read.

It took but a few moments before the seer released the mage's hands and gasped inwardly.

"Olava."

"I have seen your friend. He is alive but not well."

KaNack perked up and leaned towards Olava. "Where is he? Please tell me!"

"He is," she started, "where it all began."

The Argonian remained in silence as he stared at her. "Is that all?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Where it all began," KaNack murmured to himself. "That has to be related to the Dark Brotherhood in some way." He stood up and bowed to the old woman. "Thank you, Olava. For everything."

The Listener left Olava's home and found both his spirit and Nazir waiting for him.

"How did it go?" the Redguard asked.

"Olava did help. However, she was rather vague in her vision. All she could gather was that Cicero is 'where it all began'," the mage answered as he started for the gate.

"Ah, a riddle. That is would be something that would be connected to the maddening jester," Lucien mused as he followed his caster.

"Well, where should we start?" asked Nazir. "The orphanage in Riften?"

"I doubt that our enemies' stronghold is hidden in a building filled with children," the Argonian growled. "No, we start at the literal place where my life with the Dark Brotherhood began," KaNack looked at the two with a grin on his face. "The abandoned shack in the swamp."

Finn made his way through the maze of passages with the leather flask in hand. He had become next in line to watch over the jester. For some reason, many of the other agents eagerly turned down their originally scheduled shifts.

The young Penitus Oculatus entered the cell room and was shocked at the sight before him. Cicero was on his side in his cell and looked like he had just been trampled by a mammoth. The jester's pale face was blue and purple with bruises, and by the way his body trembled, there was no doubt that he was in unbearable pain.

The young Imperial hurried over to the cell and took a knee as he peered in at the prisoner. Cicero released shallow and ragged breaths and hugged himself tenderly. Whatever had happened during the questioning, it was apparently that the fool had not been very cooperative at all.

"Cicero?" he asked gently.

The Keeper opened his eyes and weakly looked out at the agent. Somehow, he managed a small smile.

"Silly Finn," he answered feebly. "How kind of you to join poor Cicero." The jester coughed a few times and hugged himself tighter as it just brought forth even worse pain. "Tell me, have you figured out the answer to my riddle yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Pity," he muttered.

Finn held out the flask to the fragile jester. "I brought you some water. They wouldn't let me bring you food. This should help though."

The Keeper shook his head as he once again shut his eyes. "No. No water. It hurts to talk, hurts to breathe," he whispered before coughing again. "Poor Cicero is so close to the Night Mother. Oh, if only Sweet Night Mother would take me into her warm embrace. I would welcome that as I am taken to the cold Void."

Finn ran his fingers through his hair as he weighed his options. The young soldier looked over at the doorway to see if anyone was watching. Seeing no one, he then reached into his satchel and began to fumble through it.

"Listen to me, Cicero. I am going to give you something to help ease the pain, but you have to promise to give it back afterwards," Finn said. He pulled a small red potion bottle out and placed it inside the cell before the battered Keeper. Cicero opened an eye and recognized it. One did not travel with an Arch Mage and not become familiar with the items he kept on his person. It was a potion of minor healing.

The Fool of Hearts grabbed the potion and quickly downed its contents. Once through, he allowed the bottle to roll out through the bars back to Finn. The Penitus Oculatus agent saw that it did nothing for the jester's bruises, but it definitely sounded like he was no longer struggling to breathe.

"Thank you, Kind Finn," Cicero said softly as he managed to sit himself up so that that he was leaning against the bars on the side of his cell. The Keeper weakly looked over at the boy as he replaced the bottle back into his satchel. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"I'll come up with some excuse as to why I used it. Don't worry about it," he answered. He then once again offered the flask of water, and this time Cicero accepted it and drank thirstily. Finn took a seat on the ground so that he and the jester were level with one another.

"Finn seems to forget that Cicero is his commander's prisoner," the jester said as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"Well, if I let you die on him, I don't think he would any less pleased with me."

"Quite right. Quite right," the jester answered nodding. He looked over Finn. With his guard sitting much closer than he had before, Cicero had a good look at the boy's protective covering. There was something particularly off about the plating and details that made it different to Maro's or Salvarus'. Finn's looked more poorly constructed and much too thin. "What kind of armor is that anyway?"

Finn looked at his garb and then back to the fool. "They did not really have much available in my size. This was all they could give me until a new set can be forged."

"That will not protect Finn in battle, not at all," grumbled Cicero. "Cicero's blade could cut right through that with ease."

The agent's eyes widened as he stared at the jester cautiously. This only caused the wounded Imperial to laugh. "Oh, Silly Finn! Cicero does not have his blade. I can't cut anything without my blade. The only sharp thing on Cicero right now is his wit."

Finn chuckled nervously, but he was glad to see that the jester was looking much better than he did when he first arrived. "So, did Commander Maro manage to get anything at all?"

"Loyal Cicero only gave common knowledge. No secrets spilled from my lips. Oh, Salvarus tried to get me to loosen my tongue. He tried very hard, but for some reason he kept mistaking my head and ribs for my tongue," Cicero sighed as he rolled his eyes, "and people say I'm crazy."

Finn was glad to see that the jester no longer seemed to be in too much pain to talk. Cicero still looked very worse for wear and could probably have used at least another two potions. "You look like a mess."

"And you look like a potato sack! Cicero is not judging you though."

A smirk crept up Finn's face as the jester chuckled lightly. The Keeper looked out at Finn with a sigh. "This is not going to end well for one of our factions, you do realize this?"

"To be honest, the more I am here, the more I wonder whether this is really where I should be. I know that Commander Maro pays well, I just had no idea that his methods were so, barbaric."

"You will soon learn that between the two of us that the Penitus Oculatus is the greater of the two evils," Cicero muttered as he shook his head at Finn. "They have done terrible things. Horrible things. "

"I can't undo what I've done. I've joined his ranks, and for at least the next three years I am in his service."

"I wish you hadn't. I really do," Cicero said sadly. "Finn is too kind for the likes of the Penitus Oculatus. Should have become a bard instead."

"I am not partially fond of bards," Finn grumbled. " They play a few string on a lute and think that they are Akatosh's gift to Tamriel."

This made Cicero chuckled lightly.

"The Listener hates bards as well. Very much so. He only tolerates them so he does not give himself away to those that would wish him harm." Cicero grinned at Finn. "I saw the Listener once take out an entire party of bards. It was one of his most satisfying contracts. First, there was a boom! Then a crack! Then screaming!" Cicero laughed heartily. "Oh, we laughed and laughed that night."

"You two sound very close."

Hearing this made the jester frown. "Yes. The relationship between a Keeper and his Listener is a powerful bond. No one had taken to accepting Cicero's company quite like the Listener. He laughs, sings and dances with Cicero. He…" the jester looked at the floor. "He saved Cicero's life," the Keeper softly said.

"Well, why wouldn't he? He's your friend, isn't he?"

"Cicero wasn't sure at the time," the jester muttered. "The pretender told him to kill me. I had been wounded, but I still had fight left in me." He looked out at Finn. "The Listener fought through all of my traps until he finally caught up with me. Hidden was my blade as the Listener approached. Poor Cicero pleaded for his life as the Listener listened. He was very funny that way." Slowly the frown turned upward into a smile. "He was a mage, he rose his hands and Cicero was ready for fire or ice. No ice, no fire. He healed Cicero. He used his magic and soon all of my wounds were gone. Then the Listener left. He did not just leave poor Cicero alive, he made sure that the Fool of Hearts was strong enough to escape and avoid the rest of the Brotherhood who were still following their false leader."

Finn continued to listen in silence as the jester continued to speak.

"Cicero knew then that this Listener was destined to be the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood. Only one that can be both compassionate and merciless can keep the family perfectly balanced."

"I wish I was capable of making a difference like that," Finn said quietly. "I just don't know where I fit in. I'm not an assassin, like you, but I can't see myself torturing men like Salvarus either."

"Every man has a purpose, Silly Finn," Cicero sighed. "Something tells me that before too long you will make a difference."


	6. Crueler than Death

Finn yawned as he continued to lean against the wall in the cell room. When he arrived for his shift at guard duty, Cicero had already been curled up on top of the sleeping mat resting. Hours passed and the Fool of Hearts appeared dead to the world, not moving or even making the slightest sound. The peace and quiet was a change of pace for the guard and also slightly unnerving. Now it had become far too quiet, and his thoughts were deafening. The Keeper had his back to him so that the Penitus Oculatus agent couldn't even see the Imperial's face.

"Cicero?" he asked quietly. When the jester did not respond, Finn shrugged it off and guessed that the fool had just fallen asleep. It did not surprise him. From what the others guards had mentioned, the man never seemed to sleep.

Finn had taken time to think over the riddle that the prisoner had given him. Over and over in his head, Finn tried to come up with an answer. He wanted to think that the answer was riches, but it contradicted other parts of the riddle. He also thought the answer might have been love, but then again, one cannot spend love.

The silence was broken when Salvarus entered. His shift was about to begin, so it was no surprise that he had shown up early. He munched on an apple and tossed another one over to Finn, making the agent have to leap forward to catch it.

"One of the soldiers came back with a chest of food. Thought you might be hungry."

Finn thanked him as he began to eat the apple. Salvarus leaned against the wall next to the other agent and glared at the prisoner.

"Has he given you any trouble?"

"He's been sleeping the whole time," Finn muttered as he took a huge chomp into the fruit.

"I don't buy it. He doesn't sleep," growled Salvarus. "Hey clown! You're not fooling anyone!" The soldier hurled his half-eaten apple into the cell and it made a perfect connection to the back of Cicero's head.

The apple bounced off the jester, then rolled off to a corner of the cell. The Fool of Hearts made no sound or showed even the slightest hint of a reaction. Salvarus' eyebrows rose. This was not the response that he had been expecting.

"You said he's been like this since your shift?"

Finn only nodded. Salvarus pulled out the keys and approached the cell cautiously. The older Imperial kicked at the bars and a piercing rattling sound echoed through the room. The loud noise was so sudden, even Finn jumped in surprised. The metallic bang echo even continued through the halls outside until it faded into silence again. Salvarus peered in at the jester and saw that Cicero still had not stirred an inch.

The guard unlocked the cell door and approached Cicero, keeping a hand on the hilt of his sword just in case this was some kind of ploy. He nudged the Keeper with the tip of his boot, but still the prisoner remained still as death. He used his boot once again, and this time used it to roll Cicero towards him. The jester was flat on his back, his eyes unblinking at the ceiling.

"No!" Salvarus fell to the ground and held his hand over the Keeper's face. Finn looked in and could tell that something was terribly wrong. "He's not breathing! Dammit, he's not breathing!"

"What should we do?"

Salvarus turned to Finn and pointed frantically at the door.

"Go get one of our healers! Hurry! If he dies on us, the Commander will have our hides!"

The young Imperial wasted no time as he flew out the door. Salvarus cursed and held the side of his head with his hand. He knew that he had given the jester the thrashing of a lifetime, but he didn't think it would be enough to kill the man.

"Come on! Breathe dammit!" Salvarus barked. He pounded onto the Keeper's chest, but the smaller man remained unmoving, his eyes glazed over. "You can't die! Not on my watch!"

Salvarus then leaned over and put his head onto Cicero's chest to listen for his heart. He was surprised when he did indeed hear a heartbeat, and it was pounding furiously. The realization fell on Salvarus too late.

"Son of a…"

Cicero's eyes lost their glossy look, and he sprung to life. Grabbing the hilt of Salvarus' sword, he kicked the surprised agent away, unsheathing the sword in the process. The jester leaped to his feet brandishing the Penitus Oculatus' sword. Salvarus stared at the Keeper in shock; he could have sworn that the Imperial had died.

"Behold! One of the many tricks of the Fool of Hearts!" Cicero laughed as he backed out of the cell, slamming the door shut. "You thought me near death? Think again!"

Cicero backed away as Salvarus launched himself at Cicero, and crashed into the cell's door. It was locked tight though. The agent glared out at him furiously.

"You were dead!"

"You're an idiot!" hissed Cicero. "I would give you the honor of being sent to the Void, but I really should be going. Mother must be missing her Sweet Cicero. Farewell! Farewell! Give my regards to Finn and the Commander!"

The jester rushed out of the door as Salvarus fumbled with the keys to the cell. He unleashed a string of curses as he mentally berated himself; the man couldn't believe that he had been tricked by the fool, AGAIN.

Cicero cautiously made his way through the passages of the keep. It had been quite some time since he and the Listener had adventured through the area. Together they had slain all the bloodthirsty hosts they had come upon. New hosts had taken their places though, the Penitus Oculatus.

Keeping a steady grip on the sword, the jester peeked around a corner. There was no one in sight; it was as though all the soldiers had turned in. Cicero had lost track of time and did not know if it was day or night. He also was unsure how many days he had been kept locked in the cell. The Keeper did not have time to waste, Salvarus still had the keys and it would not take long before all the agents were alerted to his escape.

The Keeper sped forward, his light feet barely making any sound as he hurried through the tunnels. Cicero felt slightly better now that he had a weapon in hand. If he came upon a soldier or two, the jester was sure he would be able to take them out. His time as a prisoner did take its toll on the fool though. He was still stiff and sore from Salvarus' beatings and having been refused food did not help his condition either.

The Keeper's spirits lifted as he spotted a pair of iron doors before him; no doubt he was close to the exit. He pushed open the door with a shoulder and peeked inside. He saw ahead a single Penitus Oculatus agent walking around a corner. A wicked smile crept up the fool's face. Tightening his grip on the sword, the jester got low to the ground, and began to creep forward.

Cicero heard another door open and shut further ahead. Picking up the pace, the jester rounded the corner and was once again faced with a pair of iron doors.

"More doors," he grumbled. "I seem to remember there being a lot less. Maro certainly has been keeping busy."

Cicero's ears perked up as he heard shouting in the far distance. Salvarus had certainly gotten out of the cell, and was none too pleased at the moment.

"Oh, bother," Cicero hissed. "Could they not slow down a bit?"

Against his better judgment, the Keeper decided to abandon the notion of sneaking out, and instead make a mad dash for freedom. He gripped the sword firmly in his hands, and burst through the iron doors. He charged forward and believed for a moment that he was home free. There was a large open chamber ahead which he knew was the way back out to Skyrim.

Cicero bounded into the chamber and just as suddenly quickly skidded to a halt. The Keeper slowly looked around as at least ten Penitus Oculatus agents had theirs bows drawn and pointing right in his direction.

The jester spun around as the sound of slow clapping began to fill the chamber. Atop a higher level was Commander Maro. A cynical smile was plastered on the leader's face as he continued to clap his hands together.

"Impressive, very impressive," Maro said, bringing his applause to a hold. "It seems you are quite the escape artist. It was a futile attempt, but I have to admire your tenacity. Most men would have just broken down, but you just keep fighting back."

Cicero glared up at Maro, but then a smile crept up his face and the Fool of Hearts began to laugh. Dropping his sword to the ground, he held up his hands.

"You caught me," chuckled Cicero as he grinned wickedly. "I surrender."

The jester then sprung forward and out of the way as Salvarus erupted through the doors and promptly swung a fist at the fool's head.

"Salvarus," Maro sighed. "Why am I not surprised to find out that this involved you somehow?"

The Imperial flushed as he continued to glare furiously at the maddening jester. The Keeper just shrugged innocently as he turned his gaze back up to Maro.

"Salvarus cannot help it. Cicero is just too clever for him." The jester then kicked the sword back to the irate soldier. "Thanks for letting me borrow that."

Salvarus leaned down to grab then weapon and quickly returned it to its sheath.

"Sir," grumbled Salvarus. "I thought the jester was dead. He showed no signs of…"

"I am not interested in excuses!" Maro barked down at the Imperial. "Your father, Lieutenant Salvarus never made any! He also did not get tricked by fools on a regular basis." The Commander shook his head in disappointment, and then pointed to the archers.

"Gentlemen, would you escort this man back to his cell?" He then pointed at Salvarus. "You! Come up here. We need to talk…NOW!"

The jester chuckled as he peacefully allowed the archers to lead him back through the tunnels.

"He sounds mad. Perhaps you will be my new cellmate. Won't that be fun?"

The Imperial lifted up his arm to backhand Cicero, but the jester quickly hurried ahead, laughing loudly the entire time.

Salvarus tucked his helmet under his arm as he walked up the wooden stairwell to his commander. The Commander snatched his helmet away as he glared furiously at the soldier.

"What in Oblivion is going on with you, Salvarus? You are one of my best. Now it seems that a simple jester can get the best of you."

"He's not a mere jester," explained Salvarus. "By the Eight, that man looked dead! It was as if Sithis himself rose from his body and attacked." The soldier narrowed his eyes as he looked to the side. "He's an assassin, and his cunning is beyond any other man I've ever come across. You said yourself that there was a reason he traveled with the Dark Brotherhood's leader. This must be the reason why!"

Maro began to pace as Salvarus held out his arms in desperation. "You asked us to bring him here so that we could find out where the Listener's stronghold is located. Once we kill him off, the Dark Brotherhood will fall apart. As soon at that fools tells us where the Pale sanctuary is, we can wipe that cult off of Tamriel permanently!"

"But he's not telling us anything!" growled Maro as he hurled Salvarus' helmet to the ground. Salvarus' winced as it might as well have been his pride that Maro chucked to the ground. The helmet bounced and rolled off the level, making a loud clanging sound as it hit the floor. "He's been insulted! Beaten! Starved! Nothing gets to this man!"

Maro released a few deep breaths, trying to relieve some of his pent up frustration. Salvarus folded his arms as he went into thought.

"Perhaps," he started. "We're doing this all wrong."

Maro turned back around to face the soldier and motioned for the Imperial to continue.

"He may be a killer, but he is also a lunatic. He's obviously taken this jester role to heart, and nothing we can do can deter him from that. We get angry and he just laughs at us."

"Get to the point, man!" barked Maro.

"What I am saying, Commander, is that he is not submitting to us, because we are feeding his jester side." Salvarus approached his leader and paused before him. "We've been giving him what he wants."

"What he wants?" snapped the Imperial. "Has Sheogorath touched you in the head? What could he possibly want that we've given him?"

"Attention," Salvarus answered simply.

Maro stared at the soldier for a few moments in silence. He thought over what was said, and the more he reflected on it, the more it seemed to make sense.

Since Cicero was brought there, he had been under constant watch. The guards had complained about his singing and maddening laughter and how he refused to stop, even after they pleaded with him. There was always someone there for Cicero to annoy, torment or deceive.

"So," Maro started. "what you are saying is that if we cut him off from everything, we should start getting some proper information from the fool?"

"I would think without anyone or anything to interact with, he'll soon become desperate for contact of any kind."

Nodding his head the Imperial leader placed a hand on Salvarus shoulder. "Get that fool and have him brought to the far chamber in the back. We'll be waiting."

Salvarus saluted the commander and then made his way back to the lower level. He picked up his helmet as he passed through the doors. If his theory was correct, this along with his hunger should be enough to finally make the lunatic crack.

Salvarus returned to the prison and upon entrance was greeted by joyous laughter.

"Oh! You came back! Cicero was worried that he had seen the last of you, Salvarus!"

The Imperial rolled his eyes as he turned to the other agents. Two archers remained and it was clear but the frustration in their eyes that the jester had been singing again.

"Orders from Commander Maro," Salvarus stated firmly. "The prisoner is to be moved to last chamber in the back."

"That one?" an archer asked in confusion. "Why? There's nothing there."

"Are you questioning our commander?" Salvarus growled.

"No! Of course not!" One of the archers pulled a cord of leather out from his satchel and approached the cell. "Alright you, no funny business."

"But funny business is all I know."

Hearing that he was being relocated did perk the jester's curiosity. The fact that Maro was moving him so soon after his escape attempt meant that the Commander must have been getting desperate. Perhaps it was more torture, perhaps it was an execution. Either way, it would be more interesting than starving in his cell.

The Keeper obediently held out his wrists, and allowed the archer to bind them. Once properly secured, the cell was opened and the three Penitus Oculatus agents marched with Cicero through the long, cave-like passages.

"Cicero remembers hearing something from the Commander earlier," the jester mentioned as he looked over at Salvarus. "Your father was a lieutenant?"

"Yes," Salvarus uttered darkly. "He was lieutenant for the Penitus Oculatus. He was aboard the Katariah, just across from the Emperor's quarters." The Imperial's eyes narrowed as he glared at the jester. "And your leader, your Listener, killed him while he tried to protect the Emperor's life."

"Across from the…" Cicero pondered aloud. He then released a quick laugh. "Oh! Salvarus is mistaking! It was not the Listener who killed the Lieutenant! No, he had a far more important target."

"What?" hissed Salvarus. His eyes darted from side to side as he went into thought. He could have sworn that no one but the Dark Brotherhood's best could have bested his father in combat.

"Yes, the Listener is a mage. He uses magic to kill his targets! He shocks them, burns them, freezes them," Cicero giggled merrily. "Oh, he does it with such finesse. It really is art in itself." The jester grinned at Salvarus. "But the Lieutenant was not shocked, frozen or burned! No! He was stabbed!"

Salvarus stopped and grabbed Cicero by his robes and pushed him hard into the wall.

"Salvarus! What are you…?!" one of the archers went to intervene, but Salvarus pulled out his sword and pointed it at him. The archer backed away, holding up his hands in submission.

"Just give me a moment!" the agent snarled. Still gripping his jester garb, the Imperial glared at Cicero furiously.

"How do you know that?" he hissed. "How do you know how my father was killed? Were you there? Was it you?"

Cicero laughed loudly and shook his head.

"Oh, no! No, Cicero was not there. I wish I was! Being present at an emperor's assassination? A historical event for the Dark Brotherhood. It would have been an honor to witness it. Sadly, Poor Cicero could not be there for the Listener during his triumph. Cicero had to stay hidden, had to wait until it was safe to return."

"Then who was it?" Salvarus asked in desperation. "Who murdered my father?"

"Why, Lucien!" laughed Cicero. "Lucien had slain the Lieutenant! He and the Listener worked together on that ship! Listener and Speaker, fighting side by side to fulfill their greatest Black Sacrament!"

Salvarus rattled his brain. He had heard the jester mention the name, Lucien, once before. He could not recollect whom he was speaking of however.

"This Lucien," muttered Salvarus. "Does he still live?"

"Funny story that!" laughed Cicero. "Shall I tell it?"

"Salvarus," the other archer murmured. "The Commander is waiting."

The large Imperial sighed deeply and released his grip on Cicero. He had at least gotten some answers surrounding his father's death on the Katariah. The four once again resumed their journey in the dim-lit caverns. The further they got, the more damaged their surrounding become. Fallen walls, broken chests and spider webs littered the passage.

Soon they arrived at their destination. The jester looked around, the chamber was huge. Much larger than the one he had been caught in earlier. Ahead was an unused, worn, stone throne on a raised platform. Two large lit sconces on both sides of the platform provided some light in the darkened area. Standing to the side of the podium was Commander Maro. A lit torch in his hand made his face an eerie orange in color as it flickered in the darkness.

Off in the distance by an unlit corner were two large Penitus Oculatus agents. There was something behind them, but in the dim light, all Cicero could make out were slight shadows.

The Fool of Hearts could only smile as he was brought before Commander Maro. The darkness and shadows were nothing new to the jester, and Maro was no more intimidating here than he was in the light.

"I see my living quarters have been upgraded!" laughed the Keeper. "Much bigger! Much roomier! What has Cicero done to earn such a prize?"

Maro extended his arm so that the torch was close to the fool's face, making the jester wince slightly.

"It has come to my attention, Cicero, that normal methods are not going to work on you. Even on your dying breath, you would not betray your Brotherhood."

Cicero sighed inwardly. He believed that he had finally stopped becoming useful while alive. The jester at this point figured that there indeed was to be an execution.

"So, you've finally learned when to quit," Cicero said quietly. "Well, it's been fun, Maro. I'm glad we got to have this time together." Cicero looked from side to side before returning to stare at Maro. "So, how is it going to end for Poor Cicero? Decapitation? Throat slitting? Burning? Drowning? Poison?" the jester read off the death list, getting more excited as he named each method.

"If this is to be Cicero's last stand, at least let it be a glorious one! The Void will be my home and the Dread Father and Night Mother will welcome me as a loyal member of the Brotherhood!"

A small smile crept up the Commander's face as the fool bravely anticipated and welcomed death. He took a few steps back and continued to smile. This smile did nothing for the Keeper's nerves.

"Cicero prefers it when you frown," he muttered quietly.

"Cicero," started Maro. "Do you like games?"

The Keeper instantly perked up and he stared at the commander in confusion. He might have expected something like this from Finn, but for Maro to offer a game made the jester on his guard.

"Yes. Cicero loves games indeed," the Keeper muttered, more puzzled than anything else.

"Like any game there is a winner and a loser. If I win, you tell me where to find the Dark Brotherhood sanctuary in the Pale. If you win," Maro stopped to chuckle slightly. "Well, we'll worry about that when the time comes."

Maro gestured for them to follow and he made his way over to the two agents in the shadows. The jester had to be pushed slightly by Salvarus to move forward. The Keeper could deal with pain, he could deal with hunger, but not knowing what Maro had planned made him nervous.

Once the Commander was by the agents, he placed his torch in an open sconce, lighting up the small area. The shadows vanished and the warm glow of the fire lit up the empty sarcophagus.

The moment Cicero laid eyes on the casket his heart sank and a shiver ran up his spine.

"The game is called 'Solitary Confinement'," started Maro. "What is going to happen is you are going to spend time alone here." He then glared at the jester menacingly. "I am hoping for your sake that you are already putting together a map of the Pale in your mind."

"No... No!... NO!" Cicero tried to scramble back, but was stopped by Salvarus. The Penitus Oculatus agent held the struggling Keeper as the other two soldiers moved over to where a large, stone lid had been resting and started to lift it up.

"Rip out my intestines! Hang me! Kill me! Just don't put me in there!" Cicero pleaded as he tried to break out of Salvarus' grip.

Maro needed to only make a slight gesture with his head, and Salvarus dragged the terrified fool towards the stone tomb. In a single movement, Cicero was hurled up and into the empty casket.

"Close it up!" Maro barked.

The other two soldier, worked together to quickly lift the heavy lid over the sarcophagus and releasing it. There was a loud gravely crunch sound as the top of the coffin had been replaced. Cicero's screaming however was not any less muffled.

Maro glared at the coffin and then turned to his agents.

"Listen. Unless this fool gives anyone a site in the Pale, no one is to speak or make any sound for that matter in this chamber. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" the agents answered in unison.

"Good, spread the word to the others."

The three agents left and Maro turned to Salvarus. "Let's hope this plan of yours works. I'm running low on patience, Salvarus."

"It will work," he answered confidently. The two Imperial's saluted one another, and then Maro took his leave. Salvarus sighed and looked back at the coffin in frustration. The jester was practically wailing as he cried to be let out. The Penitus Oculatus rolled his eyes and folded his arms as he prepared for his shift. He was going to be dead silent on his end, but Cicero was going to be anything, but.

Even with his hands bound, the Keeper pounded his fists into the stony top of his prison. Over and over he screamed to be let out, but there was no sound. With the exception of his screaming, there were no other voices. No one to talk to, no one to interact with. He was alone.

The Keeper had screamed until his voice had become ragged and almost inaudible. The jester trembled as he squeezed his eyes shut. It was cramped and dark. There was no light and no sound. It was Cheydinhal all over again.


	7. More than a Keeper

There was a loud screech as the frost spider fell down to its death. The spiders had numbers in their favor, but in the end they all fell to the Dark Brotherhood.

KaNack lowered his raised hands that were still smoldering from the fireball he had cast. Nazir sheathed his scimitar, and the Spectral Assassin hurried over from a kill he had made from across the cavern.

"I hate spiders. You think you've killed them all, and they just seem to reappear," the Redguard grumbled. The three had traveled to Helgen after the abandoned shack, the old Falkreath sanctuary and Dragon's Bridge all came up empty of Penitus Oculatus. Not even the town of Dragon's Bridge, the original base of the officers, had been home to Maro or his agents.

"It has to be here," KaNack hissed. "If it is not related to the Dark Brotherhood, then it had to be connected to my road to becoming the Dovahkiin."

There was a crunch as the Argornian stepped on a frost spider's corpse as he continued forward in the underground passages. "It would have been a perfect place for Maro to make base. There are tunnels and hidden passages all over Helgen."

"Yeah, and full to the brim with frost spiders and skeevers," hissed Nazir. "How about I get to choose the next place we try?"

The mage ignored his brother's complaining and continued forwards through the dark passages not wanting to waste time. If there had been no sign of the Penitus Oculatus at this point, it was obvious that Helgen, too, was not the place where it all began. The leader of the Dark Brotherhood stopped with a sigh and turned to Lucien.

"How much longer do we have, Buddy?"

"There is a disturbance in the Void. The Night Mother still has the ability to contact this world, but I fear that in a few days it might be too late."

"We're running out of time. By Sithis, where else could Olava have meant?"

"If the Night Mother can talk," started Nazir as he caught up with the two, "then why doesn't SHE tell you where to find Cicero?" The Redguard rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's right. You're being tested. Isn't that what I overheard Babette telling you?"

The mage grumbled in his throat as he proceeded forward, following the small stream of water.

"Now here we are, tromping through swamps and dungeons, because you're failing your examination."

KaNack spun around with his lips curled back in a vicious snarl, revealing rows of small, sharp teeth. "If you want to leave! Just leave!" he screamed as he viciously pointed back the way they had come. "No one is forcing you to help, Nazir! Go! Go back home!"

The Redguard froze in place at the Listener's outburst. Tempers were flying high, and it was probably not best to frustrate the one who could shoot fire bolts. The mage stormed off, vanishing into a tunnel. The Spectral Assassin turned to Nazir with disappointment.

"It's not easy for him, you know," the ghost uttered. "The entire fate of the Dark Brotherhood is resting square on his shoulders. If you are going to do nothing but complain, it will be for the best if you return to the sanctuary."

"Listen," started Nazir. "I understand how important this is to find the Keeper. Running around Skyrim is not doing us any good though. I think what we need to do is start book hunting and see if we can dig up the Keeping Tomes. If we can get a new Keeper, then at least we'll still have the Night Mother."

Lucien's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed.

"I think you should be very grateful that the Listener did not hear you say that," the Spectral Assassin uttered darkly. "If you bring that idea up to him, don't expect to be welcomed back into the sanctuary."

Having said his piece, Lucien hurried ahead leaving a faint trail of blue mist behind him as he went to catch up with his caster. The spirit found the mage outside the mouth of the cave staring out at the land ahead. There were the faintest hints of sunrise off in the horizon. Dawn was upon them.

"My Listener?" the ghost remarked quietly as he joined the Argonian's side.

"This is my fault," the mage uttered quietly. "There was a reason why the Keeper is no longer meant to take on contracts. " The Argonian released a grunt of disgust with himself. "On multiple occasions I had kept him away from the Night Mother for close to a week. He should have been at Dawnstar tending to his duties, not helping me kill off bandits and targets. How could I have been so reckless?"

"You didn't force your will on the Keeper," Lucien answered gently. "He wanted to join you on your quests. For too long he had been refused the privilege of taking a life. The thrill of murder was just too exciting an offer for him to turn down." The ghost smiled as he folded his arms. "Cicero is stronger than you think. He'll be alright."

"And what of the Night Mother?"

This made the Spectral Assassin frown. "One could say that always taking the jester with you might not have been the right thing to do as a Listener. It was, however, the right thing to do as a friend."

Nazir appeared from the cave entrance and found his Listener speaking with the Spectral Assassin.

"KaNack."The Argonian turned around to Nazir with a rather frustrated look. "Is there anywhere else you can think of? Maybe we should try Ivarstead where I gave you your first contract."

"It's not Ivarstead," KaNack sighed. "I know it's not Winterhold where I began my work as a mage. I can't imagine it's in Black Marsh, where I was born." He held his face in his hands, feeling exhausted and disappointment. After years of trying to restore the Dark Brotherhood to its former glory, he was going to be the sole reason for its permanent destruction.

"Look," started Nazir trying to reassure the Listener. "We managed the Dark Brotherhood for years without the Night Mother. If we are too late, there is no reason for us to just disband. We'll still follow you."

"Nazir, at this point I really don't care whether you want to follow me or not. You can do what you wish with the Dark Brotherhood if I fail. It won't matter anymore." The sky was a crimson red as the sun rose to greet a new day. The mage looked up at it and narrowed his eyes. Another day had passed and a new one had begun. They had just lost more time. "Let's just return to Dawnstar, I am out of ideas."

"Perhaps the other brothers and sisters will have answers to the Keeper's whereabouts," Lucien suggested quietly.

KaNack simply nodded his head, and the three made their way back up the road that led to Helgen's entrance where the horses had been left. As they walked, the Argonian thought back to the day when he had been named the new leader of the Dark Brotherhood.

KaNack could not hold back a smirk as he made his way back up the stairs.

"You do realize that when you have this sanctuary returned to her former glory, he's going to know you got more than five thousand gold pieces," the ghost stated as he walked alongside the mage.

"I'll worry about that when the time comes. Did you see his face? He'd probably go off and kill Motierre if I hadn't done it myself."

The spirit only smiled as he thought back to the look of shock on the Elder Council member's face. The Listener had told the Breton it was his lucky day only to strike the man with a volt of chain lightning.

It was a kind deed done in respect for a man who had accepted his death quietly and willingly. KaNack made sure the Emperor's death was quick and painless. Not many were given that kind of privilege.

"We have a lot of work ahead of us," KaNack stated at he got to the top of the stairs. The Argonian leaped in surprise as the Night Mother's voice suddenly spoke in his head. He quickly approached and took a knee in front of the open coffin.

'It is done. Emperor Titus Mede the Second lies dead, and the Dark Brotherhood yet lives. But our work is just beginning. Hear my words.'

The Argonian listened carefully as the Night Mother told him to meet with a disturbed bard in Solitude to begin a new contract. After given his contract, the mage stood up and started out the door scowling.

"I hate bards. Why couldn't more contracts involve killing them?"

"I can feel deep loathing residing within you," Lucien remarked with a joyous malice in his voice. "What is it that the bards have done to unfortunately forge the Listener's scorn?"

"Ugh!" groaned KaNack. "There was a lute, and a drum, and some kind of poem." The mage shook his head furiously. "I don't wish to go into it." The Argonian placed his hand on the Black Door. "Let's just find out what this bard wants. Maybe if we are lucky, his contract will have a last request similar to the Emperor's."

Lucien laughed, thrilled with the mage's drive. The door was opened and the two stepped out into the bitter cold of Dawnstar.

"Okay, Solitude is west of here, right Buddy?"

Before the spirit could answer, a piercing yet familiar voice cried out.

"Listener!"

The Argonian looked up and saw Cicero come running from around the junction of rocks. The jester paused in front of him looking out of breath, but excited nonetheless. KaNack could not help but smile as he saw the Imperial.

The two had first met each other on the road in Whiterun. KaNack left Breezehome, after picking up some ingredients that were needed at the College of Winterhold. He had just begun his journey, when he came upon the stranded fool and his mother. Hearing the jester's pleas, he took pity on the man and agreed to help. It took some persuasion, but the Argonian managed to convince the paranoid farmer to fix Cicero's wagon.

Fate must have played some part in leading the mage to the welcoming arms of the Dark Brotherhood. It wasn't until after he had returned from Astrid's contract, that he was once again reunited with Cicero, much to the caster's delight. The Argonian loved to laugh, and the jester's personality quickly won him over. KaNack and Cicero would spend time together sharing stories and exchanging jokes.

Perhaps it was his dear friendship with Cicero that prevented the jester from outright killing him when he had been discovered in the Night Mother's coffin. That was fortunate, because then the fool would have killed the man he had been seeking for almost fifteen years. Becoming the Listener only strengthened the bond between the two.

The last time KaNack had seen the Fool of Hearts had been at the Dawnstar Sanctuary, just before the first attempt at the Emperor's assassination.

Despite his orders from Astrid, when the Argonian had finally caught up with the battered Imperial, he could not bring himself to end the fool's life. Part of him had assumed that he would not see the jester's grinning face again once he had left the sanctuary.

"Cicero!" KaNack exclaimed with a smile. He approached the Keeper with open arms. "It's good to see you again, old friend!"

The mage froze in his tracks when the jester suddenly pulled a deadly ebony blade from its sheath. The Argonian stared at it and then at Cicero in shock.

"Oh, yes! It is Cicero," he chuckled wickedly. "You were a fool to spare me! What, did you think I'd be grateful?!"

The Argonian held up his hands submissively as he took a few steps back. Lucien placed a hand on his dagger as well, preparing for whatever might come.

"Cicero, you don't have to worry about anyone hurting you anymore," KaNack said as he tried to calm the maddened fool. "As Listener, I have been placed as the new leader of the Dawnstar Sanctuary. You will be welcomed here."

"Cicero should be Listener, not you!" the jester snarled viciously. "Now you will die!"

A few sparks began to crackle from the mage's fingertips as he stared at the Imperial in disbelief. He had no desire to kill the man, but if Cicero planned to attack him, the mage was ready to fight back.

Cicero's expression of anger remained for a few moments, and then lifted to one of mirth. He laughed loudly and slapped at his knee before pointing at the Argonian.

"Gotcha! Oh, Listener, you should see the look on your face!"

The jester continued to laugh loudly, and the sparks stopped crackling from the mage's hands. He turned back to look at the Spectral Assassin to see if this was really happening. The spirit seemed just as confused as KaNack was. He then sighed in frustration, and released the grip on his dagger's hilt.

"There is no joke quite like one from the Fool of Hearts," the spirit said quietly. KaNack grunted as Cicero suddenly was by his side and wrapped an arm around the Argornian. The jester smiled as he pulled the mage close.

"Oh, Cicero has returned! Not to kill the kind Listener, but to serve until one of us dies horribly in service to our Mother!"

The jester stepped back and positioned his hands so that the fingers and thumbs formed the shape of a heart.

"Best friends forever!"

The Listener released a growl of frustration as he scowled at Cicero.

"Cicero," KaNack started. "You're unstable, dangerous and prone to sudden fits of violent rage." He folded his arms, and his tail swished from side to side in aggravation. "I had thought that sparing you would make you act more respectful and professional in a faction such at the Dark Brotherhood." Shaking his head, the mage sighed in disappointment. "I've obviously made a mistake. Leave, Cicero, you are not wanted here."

The jester's face dropped from merriment to that of disbelief. He held out his hands and made a sound as to plead his case, but then stopped. The Keeper sighed sadly, and turned around, walking back from once he came.

The Keeper paused when he heard quiet snickering. Cicero turned back around, and KaNack had a huge grin on his face. The Argonian let out a bark of a laugh and pointed at the Fool of Hearts.

"Gotcha," he sang lightly.

"Oh!" cried the Imperial as he stomped a foot on the ground. "What a cruel trick to play on poor Cicero! The Listener is wicked indeed!"

"Oh, shut up," KaNack laughed as he shook his head. "You started it."

"Cicero will end it too!" The jester approached the mage and extended his hand. "No more pranks where I threaten your life. Promise!"

The Argonian shook the fool's hand and then pulled him into an embrace, patting the man on his back.

"Welcome home, Brother."

Once the Listener broke off the hug, he stepped to the side extending an arm to the door.

"I'll make myself at home in the sanctuary. I'm sure Mother needs tending," Cicero muttered as he realized that he had a lot of work ahead of him.

The jester ran past the two towards the Black Door. KaNack sighed lightly, and looked to his Spectral Assassin. Lucien had his arms folded and was grinning as he nodded to the Listener.

"Don't think you telling me about the Dread Father's wishes makes you responsible for this. I knew going in that I wasn't going to kill him."

Lucien's smile only grew wider, and he shook his head with a sigh. The two started to leave, when they heard a voice call out to them.

"I know I am too busy now! Perhaps if you are free later, Listener. Let's kill someone!"

KaNack could only laugh as he waved off Cicero, making his way to Solitude. True that there was a lot of work to do, but as long as one had his friends with him; no burden would ever be faced alone.


	8. Lucien, Guardian of the Tenets

There are those who would say that it's nice to get some alone time every once in a while. Free of distraction and having nothing but their own thoughts as company. For most, that might be the case. However, after countless years of it, one eventually grows sick of hearing his own voice.

The jester had been kept in his new prison for at least two days. Two days of pitch black and deathly silence. One does not spend that much time in solitude without being able to estimate how much time passes by sheer sensation alone. His experience at the Cheydinhal sanctuary left a huge imprint on Cicero. The loneness was not easy for a man who had always been surrounded by those he called 'family'. They were all dead, and the silence began to slowly drive him mad. The Keeper had been released of his solitude when he was mercifully granted a friend from the Void.

The jester's laughter had been deafening, breaking the serenity of his mind. Laughter, jokes and songs of heroes and silly men never seemed to end. The voice was so loud that Cicero was not even given a moment's peace to rest. This led to him suffering from insomnia, making sleeping next to impossible. Over time, he and the merry man became one. Then there was no one laughing but the Fool of Hearts himself. Sithis was not as kind to him now as he had been in the past. There was no laughter and no friendly voices to keep him company this time.

Even now, the Fool of Hearts bore mental scars from his extended period of being trapped in the old sanctuary he had once called home. The home became a prison, and the lack of human interaction and contact took a toll on his psyche. To present day, the Keeper could never stand being by himself for much longer than a few hours. He also sometimes experienced fits of claustrophobia. Dark and tightly enclosed places were avoided if at all possible.

Cicero sometimes was not even sure if he was being guarded. No one ever answered his cries; he never even heard so much as a cough. It made no difference if he was being watched or not. The slab of stone above him was far too heavy to move on his own, even if he had been at full strength.

The jester's stomach rumbled in despair. Gradually his body had begun to eat away at his muscles, seeking energy to keep the fool functioning. 'At least someone's being fed', Cicero had thought to himself bitterly.

To try and distract himself from his predicament, the Keeper began to repeatedly recite the ancient incantations that had been scribed in the Keeping Tomes. Over and over he spoke the words, but that just led to his mouth becoming dry. His throat burned as it longed for the cool refreshing sensation of drink. Being deprived of food, water and human contact is a terrible thing for any one person to bear.

The Imperial knew that it was going only be a matter of time before his fears would get the best of him. Panicking would lead to a complete mental breakdown and possible betrayal of the Dark Brotherhood. How Cicero longed for a voice, a sound, something to break the unending torment of isolation.

Keeping his eyes shut, the jester once again tried escaping into his imagination. He thought about better and kinder times. Him and the Listener getting a drink at the Winking Skeever, singing and sharing stories with his brothers and sisters of the Brotherhood, the warm, securing glow of the fire after escaping the winter chill of Dawnstar, even the deep chastising voice of the Spectral Assassin. A single tear crawled down Cicero's cheek as he reminisced.

"Nothing."

The voice had come out of nowhere, and the Keeper's eyes popped open. He waited a few moments and wondered if he had just imagined it.

"That's the answer to the riddle, right?" the voice asked. "What the poor have and the rich require? The answer is 'nothing'."

Cicero released a shuddering sigh of relief and could not help but smile.

"Clever Finn," he stated quietly. "You finally figured out what I am."

The young Penitus Oculatus had to wait for some time before it had finally been his turn to guard the Keeper. Upon arriving on the scene, his heart sank. The gloomy stone sarcophagus was not fit for any living person. He felt slightly sick to his stomach that the man he had sworn to follow had devised such a horrendous method of mental anguish.

He tried to follow orders, but Finn could only stay silent for so long before his heart got the best of him. He was relieved when Cicero responded so quickly, it meant that the jester had not yet been broken.

"Is Maro seething?" the jester asked. "Please tell me that Cicero has at least managed to make that man's life miserable!"

"I have no idea. The Commander has been with our alchemist all night. No one knows what he's working on."

"Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," he chattered nervously. "Cicero is just grateful to hear your voice. It's been too quiet, too lonely." The jester grimaced as he shifted his body so that he was no longer on his back, but on his side. Finn could not have spoken up at a better time; the horrid dark and quiet were close to making the Keeper crack.

"Tell me, have you made the money you needed for your mother yet?"

Finn stiffened up as he heard the question. He had completely forgotten that he had mentioned his reason for joining Maro's brigade in the first place.

"I've only been here for about a month. Salvarus told me that we were to receive compensation once Commander Maro accomplishes his goals."

The jester could not help but let out a loud bitter laugh.

"Poor Finn! Chose a side that contains all the dangers and none of the benefits! Damn Penitus Ocalutus will follow Maro like sheep! Dumb sheep who can wait forever for a reward that will never come!"

Cicero paused as he realized that his bitterness towards the agents was probably not going to help anyone. Dampening the boy's spirits wouldn't make the Keeper feel better. Finn did not have to speak up or talk to the jester; the kind thing to do would be to try and make Finn feel like he had some worth. No sense in both of them feeling dejected.

"Cicero is sure that Finn will provide well for his mother. You're a good son," he said gently. Cicero then asked a question, as he was naturally curious."Finn doesn't seem the soldier type, what is that you did back in Cyrodiil?"

"We were farmers," the agent answered simply. " Farming has been part of the Phineous family for generations."

The jester could not help but smile. A farm boy pretending to be a soldier, it sounded like something out of a children's book.

"Once it was just my mother and I, we were not able to produce the same amount of crops as we had in the past. I know that with the money I make, I can hire some extra hands that will help save our farm."

"I do love farms," the fool sighed. Cicero imagined great golden fields of wheat, tall stalks of corn and earthy brown soil that would grow crops that were fresh and crisp. He winced as his stomach rumbled angrily. The thought of vegetables made him once again aware of his starvation.

"Poor Cicero is hungry. What I would give for a carrot. Not for information, mind you! A carrot would be just merry though."

Finn reached into his satchel and pulled out a pocket-sized book that showed signs of age and wear. The cover read 'The Yellow Book of Riddles'.

"Would some brainteasers help take your mind off your pain?" he asked, flipping the book open. "I always carry this book of riddles with me. It was my father's. He gave it to me before…" Finn paused and looked to the side, "before he got sick." The soldier began to flip through the pages. "He used to read this to me when I was younger. It's one of the reason I like riddles so much."

"Hmmm, I never really knew my father. I just followed my own path. Looking back at everything that has happened and took place in my life. If given the choice, I'd do it all again. Exactly the same way." Cicero shut hiseyes as he rolled onto his stomach, resting his head on crossed arms. "Yes, though, Kind Finn. Cicero would love to hear some riddles."

* * *

Nazir was ahead of the Listener and spirit as they entered the Dawnstar Sanctuary. Once again, KaNack paused as they went past the Night Mother. The Redguard looked at the Argonian sympathetically.

"Did she speak?"

KaNack only shook his head, still staring at the floor. Once again, the Night Mother refused to shed any light as to where the Keeper was being held.

"Well, it sounds like the hawks managed to locate the others. Should I have them gather in the usual meeting place?"

"Yes, Nazir. I will be there shortly."

The assassin continued down the stairwell to gather the other Dark Brotherhood members, leaving the mage and ghost alone.

The Listener grimaced before he made his way over to the Night Mother's crypt and stood before it. The coffin was locked, as it should have been. Cicero never allowed the Night Mother to be exposed unless he was present in the sanctuary to keep an eye on her condition.

Lucien watched KaNack carefully. He could sense that something was building up within the Argonian, and it was not positive.

"I have followed your orders without question," the Listener hissed quietly. "I spread the word of Sithis and built sanctuaries in His name." Looking up, KaNack's stared at the coffin spitefully. "I have willingly sacrificed and lost time with my wife because your priorities always had to come first."

The Argonian got dangerously close to the crypt, his eyes narrowing to slits and his upper lip curled in a snarl.

"My Listener?" Lucien asked quietly.

"What more do you want from me?" the mage growled. "What do I have left for you to take? Do you want my pride?" KaNack growled in disgust. "Do you want me to grovel like a dog?"

A tremor ran through the Argonian's body. The Spectral Assassin could now clearly see that all the pent up frustration, all the anger and despair, it was about to be released in full force.

"Astrid abandoned her path and betrayed the Brotherhood. What have I done to earn such scorn from you?"

"Do you want me to step down? I'll gladly do so. My best is not enough to pass this test of yours." KaNack's breathing grew rapidly as did his anger. "Speak! Tell me where my friend is. Why should you be silenced forever because of my own inadequacies?" The Argonian's anger diminished and was replaced with despair. "Punish me. What has the Keeper done to deserve such a fate? He has been nothing but devoted to you, even without hearing your voice. If he is as important to you as he is with me, then you will tell me where to find him."

KaNack stopped talking and remained silent as he sadly lowered his head. Lucien let out a sigh of relief; he believed that the rage had passed. The spirit regrettably had misjudged his Listener.

The Argonian head slowly began to lift up and he stared at the sarcophagus with pure resentment. KaNack growled in frustration as the Night Mother still refused to speak to him.

"How can you be so selfish?" he asked darkly. "Do you think that by sacrificing your voice and the Keeper that this will give you the same admiration as a martyr? You're wrong! You are hand feeding Commander Maro exactly what he wants! The Dark Brotherhood will become nothing but a myth, a legend to scare small children. Haven't enough of us been killed by that brigade?! How much more blood do you need before your greedy gullet is satisfied?!"

KaNack was now screaming at the coffin. "I will not allow you to sacrifice Cicero as though he doesn't matter!" Small tufts of black smoke began to billow from the mage's hands as his fury amplified.

"You would have been NOTHING without him, you festering bitch! NOW TALK!" A powerful finale to his wrath, the Argonian slammed both fists onto the doors of the Night Mother's crypt and an explosion of flame erupted from his hands upon impact.

The mage barely had time to recover from casting his destruction spell. He felt a great force crash into him, slamming him back into the unforgiving stone wall of the sanctuary. There was a loud crack when his horns came into contact with the rock, protecting his soft head from the damaging collision.

The next sensation the mage felt was cold unforgiving steel to his throat. KaNack opened his eyes and found himself braced against the wall by his Spectral Assassin. The spirit's face was fixed in an expression of both revulsion and ferocity as he kept his blade to the Listener.

"Who in Oblivion do you think you are?" Lucien growled menacingly. "Do you think that by being the Listener you are better than the rest of us?!" He gestured towards the Night Mother with his head without breaking his eye-lock with the Argonian. "She is our lady and you WILL treat her with the respect she is owed!" Lucien hand trembled, but his grip on his victim did not falter.

"It does not matter if she allows all of Tamriel to fall!" he shouted. "Her will is law and we must abide by it! I have sent men to their deaths for less than what you have just done! Don't think that because of your position that you will not be punished for your actions!"

Lucien panted furiously as he pulled the mage closer so that their noses were practically touching.

"Apologize," he growled.

"What?"

"Apologize to her! Beg her forgiveness! Grovel and plead until your throat is sore!" The ghost slammed the mage hard once more into the stone wall and swung his blade viciously. KaNack crumbled to the floor now bearing a large cut that went from his jaw line all the way to his brow.

"Know your place, reptile! I don't care if you are the Listener! I don't care if you are the leader of the Black Hand! I will not hesitate to send you to the Void myself if you EVER disrespect the Night Mother like that again!"

Lucien dropped to a knee and was once again in KaNack's face. He was so close that the wisps of vapor that emanated from the Spectral Assassin swayed with every breath the Argonian took.

"Do we understand each other?" the ghost growled.

"Yes," KaNack whispered as he leaned back against the wall, terrified of the spirit before him. "Yes, we understand each other, Buddy."

"Buddy," Lucien sneered as he rose to his feet and sheathed his blade. "My name…" he started with a hiss. " IS LUCIEN LACHANCE!"

As the spirit roared, his name echoed through the halls of the sanctuary as if to emphasize how important it was for the mage to remember the ghost's title.

The Spectral Assassin stared at the Argonian menacingly, and then slowly his face melted into that of concern. The dark blood continued to trickle down the mage's face, and one of his horns had an ugly crack going through it. He had disrespected the Night Mother and tasted the wrath of Sithis.

KaNack made no attempt to heal his injuries. He kept his head low and bore the wounds brought forth by his insolence. He knew he had broken the most important Tenet and did not deserve to heal his abrasions.

"Listener," Lucien started. "I don't know what came over me. You were…"

KaNack held up a hand to silence the spirit, and he shook his head solemnly.

"No. No you were right to do so. We have these Tenets for a reason. If we start making exceptions then we'll be no better than Astrid." The Argonian leaned his head back and winced. The crack in his horn brought forth searing pain as it came into contact with the wall, as gentle as the motion was.

The mage's eyes opened as he heard people running up the steps. Nazir was in the front with two of the initiates behind him.

"You!" Nazir drew his blade and approached the spirit furiously. "What have you done?!"

"Nazir, it's fine!" KaNack shouted as he struggled to get back to his feet. "Leave him be."

"But he…!"

"Leave him be!" the Argonian repeated furiously. Nazir had no choice but to sheath his weapon and not punish the spirit for attacking the Listener. "Go, Nazir. I'll be fine."

The Redguard reluctantly returned back down the stairs with the initiates close behind. They had many questions for Nazir about what had just taken place, but they were not going to get answers anytime soon.

As wrathful as Lucien had been moments before, he was that much more timid now. The spirit could only fold his arms and wait for the Listener to speak to him.

"I let my emotions get the best of me," KaNack sighed as walked past the Spectral Assassin towards the small garden by the stairway. He settled into a chair that had been left by the plot, and released a loud sigh. "It was a moment of weakness, and for that I apologize."The Argonian was exhausted now that he had released all of his frustration in one fell swoop. He paid for it dearly, but it still lifted a huge weight that had been bearing down on him.

Lucien joined the mage at the garden and quietly kept him company. KaNack stared at the spirit weakly.

"I will ask for the Night Mother's forgiveness in due time. I will make amends for my impertinence." The mage touched the large slice on his face with his fingers and glanced at them to see how bad the blood loss was. The cut was frightening, but it had already started to scab over and stop bleeding. It was a mark he was willing to keep as a reminder of his place.

"I just don't know where else to turn," the Argonian muttered quietly. "We are no closer to finding Cicero than we were before." KaNack stared up at the ceiling as he leaned back into the chair. "Where it all began," he whispered.

"The Night Mother can be a cold mistress at times," Lucien stated as he placed a hand on his Listener's shoulder. "She always does have her reasons. The death of the Brotherhood is not her desire, you must realize that. She has faith in your own abilities. She knows that you are destined to do great things for Sithis and His children. That was why she made you the Listener. You brought the Dark Brotherhood back from the brink of death when you killed the Emperor. Do not abandon hope."

"Killed the Emperor," KaNack mumbled under his breath. Slowly a realization hit the Argonian and his eyes went from the ceiling, back down to Lucien. "Killed the Emperor," he said again. He stood up and grabbed the Spectral Assassin by the shoulders. "Killed the Emperor! How could I have been so blind?" The Argonian rushed down the stairwell, and the spirit desperately tried to keep up with the mage.

"The beginning! Of course! It makes sense!" KaNack exclaimed as he ran.

"What does?" Lucien cried after him.

The Listener burst into the consultation room of the sanctuary, where Nazir and all the others had been waiting. The Redguard jumped at the mage's sudden appearance.

"KaNack?"

" I know where Cicero is!" he announced. "I was too busy thinking about the obvious answers! Helgen! Falkreath! Dragon Bridge!" He placed his hands on the table as he grew more confident with every breath. "It was not about where my journey started as an assassin, it was about how my life began as the Listener! Where it all began!"

Nazir was only more confused and looked to Babette for answers. The small vampire child did not seem confused or even phased by the mage's sudden burst of realization.

"Where it all began!" KaNack repeated as he slammed a palm on the table. "With my first contract with the Night Mother!" he panted and slowly nodded his head, all had not been lost. "Volunruud!"


	9. Thank You, Kind Finn

KaNack rode Shadowmere at full speed as he led the Dark Brotherhood across the plains of Skyrim. The sound of trampling hooves was the only sound being made at the moment in the safe blanket of twilight. Along with KaNack and Nazir, the four Brotherhood initiates joined them as they rode their horses towards Volunruud.

Kaie, a Breton who was slowly becoming accustomed to using her stealth to approach her prey. Dro'marash, a Khajiit that used his alchemy skills to create poisons for his contracts. His fur was as dark as the Void and red as blood. Vytalas, the Dark Elf who was on the road of becoming a master archer, his ebony bow always being the weapon of choice. Then there was the newest and youngest member Shaleez. A tawny colored Argonian, who just like the Listener, was becoming a master of the arcane arts.

They were still learning, but had proven themselves to become quite efficient at killing. The Listener had no idea how many men there would be hiding out in Volunruud. It could be five, it could be five hundred, either way he was prepared and had a backup plan if something went wrong.

"There it is!" Nazir announced as he pointed towards Volunruud. The mound that led to the underground Nordic tomb was about two quarters of a mile away, but it could still clearly be seen under the glow of the twin moons.

"Let's stop here. We don't want to give ourselves away," KaNack ordered as he made Shadowmere come to a halt. The six Dark Brotherhood members dismounted and started to make the trek towards the sepulcher.

Rather than his usual Dark Brotherhood mage robes, the Argonian had decided to pull out the robes of the Arch Mage. Along with the garb, he wore the mask of Nahkriin. He felt that his magic was going to need all the blessings it could get. In his satchel, he had stored a variety of potions as well an item that had been carefully wrapped in cloth. His spell Grand Healing would also be useful as it would heal everyone in his party in one single cast. Restoration magic was a vital component no matter how big or small an upcoming battle might be.

"You know the plan, we break in as quickly and quietly as possible," KaNack hissed. The others gathered close to him as they walked. "We don't want to make our presence known if we can help it."

"What about the kill?" Dro'marash snickered with glee. " Dro has been looking forward to poisoning some men."

"All in good time, Dro," KaNack sternly muttered. "First priority is to get the Keeper. Then we eliminate every last one of the Penitus Oculatus. There will be no one left to restore Maro's regime."

"Good. Good." The Khajiit chuckled, his whiskers twitching with anticipation.

"The strongest part of their armor is around the chest area," KaNack continued as they stalked towards the sepulcher. "Strong steel surrounds their vital organs and torso. There are weak points around the neck and shoulder area. If you have to aim, those are the spots you should be favoring."

"Steel is no match for ebony," snorted the Dark Elf. "I'll take a man down with one arrow to the heart."

It was true that ebony was much stronger than steel, but the Listener did not want to take any chances.

The Dark Brotherhood paused when they came within sixty yards of Volunruud. KaNack lowered to the ground and made a motion of his hand to Kaie to come forward.

"Scout ahead, see if there are guards outside the door," he whispered to the Breton. The girl nodded and swiftly made her way towards Volunruud.

Her feet seemed to make no sound even as they made contact with the icy ground below her. Keeping low, Kaie crawled towards the ridge of the tomb. As she peered down, she saw no sign of Maro or any of his Penitus Oculatus. She released a quiet whistle that alerted her brothers and sister that the path was clear.

The Argonian led his followers towards Volunruud and descended the curling staircase to the pit below. KaNack reached for one of the iron doors and pulled. The Nordic tomb had been secured to keep unwanted visitors out.

"Locked," the mage growled.

"Like that ever stopped us before," Nazir snorted as he playfully pushed KaNack to the side, and pulled out his lock picking tools. "Stand aside, kid. Let a professional handle this."

The Redguard quickly went to work on the iron doors, chuckling to himself. As he got older, it was less common for him to leave the Dawnstar Sanctuary to work. He had almost forgotten the thrill of breaking into a place where he was not welcomed. There was a click and then a satisfying clunking sound.

"Easy as pie," Nazir snickered. The Redguard opened the door and then froze when he saw a wire in front of him snap. He had been so satisfied unlocking the door that he had failed to inspect the area for traps prior to pushing forward. "Oh, this is gonna…"

The large log swung from above and smashed right into Nazir's chest. He went flying back and crashed into a heap at the end of the pit.

"Nazir!"

KaNack and the other initiates rushed to their companion's side. The Listener helped him sit up as the others watched in concern. Nazir groaned and grimaced in pain.

"I'm getting too old for this nonsense," he grumbled.

The Argonian sighed as he placed a hand on Nazir's chest and a golden glow shined from his fingers as he began to heal the Redguard's injuries.

"You're getting too old, period," KaNack remarked with a smirk.

"Uh, boys?" Kaie stated quietly as her eyes lifted to the top of the pit they were in. KaNack looked up from Nazir and saw that the top of the pit was now surrounded by Penitus Oculatus archers. Their bows were drawn and pointed directly at the small party of assassins.

"Drop all your weapons!" one of the archers commanded.

The Dark Elf's eyes narrowed and his hand slowly started to go for his quiver.

"Vy!" KaNack snapped, getting his brother's attention. "Don't."

Vytalas growled in frustration as he slipped off his quiver and placed his bow on the ground before him. The others followed suit, removing blades, swords and scrolls.

"You too, lizard!"

KaNack smiled from under the mask. He had hoped that the large robes could have kept it hidden, but apparently nothing escaped the eyes of Maro's men. The Listener slowly pulled out the three-faced staff from his robe and placed it tenderly on the ground.

"You boys are no fun," he sighed.

"What kind of a staff is that?" another archer questioned. "I've seen hundreds of them, but never one like that!"

"An old friend gave it to me," the mage answered simply. "If you ever meet him, be sure to call him 'Anne Marie'."

"Right then," the archer barked. "Which of you is the leader of the Dark Brotherhood?"

KaNack stepped back from the others so that he was in the center of the pit.

"Right! You go on inside! Alone! The Commander has been waiting a long time to meet you!"

"I'm sure he has," the Argonian growled.

"KaNack, you can't be serious!" Shaleez cried. "They're going to kill you as soon as you step foot in there! You can't go alone."

"Quiet, you!" barked the archer.

"I'll be fine," the Listener said to his Argonian sister. "Trust me." He then looked up at the sky, past the archers. No one could see it, but a wicked grin formed on the mage's face. "All of you, listen to me. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear. Stay low and stay still. Promise me!"

"You're making our job so much easier," laughed the archer. "Thank you for cooperating."

"You're quite welcome," the mage chuckled darkly. KaNack then turned around and entered the Nordic tomb, avoiding the large log that was still swaying after being sprung. He stepped down the stairwell and entered the main chamber. It had been changed since he had last been there. The cavern was much larger and there were tunnels that led in all sorts of directions.

He did not have much time to admire them though, he was much more interested in the army of Penitus Oculatus that filled the room and had their weapons drawn. At the front of the agents was Maro. His arms were crossed, and he was none too pleased to see the Listener.

"I had hoped we would be able to find you. Instead it seems you found us," the Commander stated bitterly.

"Sorry for taking so long," KaNack apologized with a bow. "We tried to get here sooner, we really did."

"You're all comedians, aren't you?"

"Only the good ones."

"I have waited years for this moment," Maro growled as he took a step closer. "Do you have any idea what you've caused by killing the Emperor?"

"Regicide?" KaNack answered simply.

Commander Maro froze in place, shocked by the straightforward response of the Dark Brotherhood's leader.

"Oh," he uttered darkly. "You're as bad as that jester of yours."

"About him…"

"No! I have been waiting too long to say this to you! You WILL listen to me!"

KaNack calmly extended an arm to him.

"Please," he insisted with a sneer.

"The Penitus Oculatus were the Emperor's guards. We were respected! Admired! When someone saw one of us, we were greeted as heroes!" The Commander's eyes narrowed. "Then you and your 'family'," he spat out the word like venom, "got involved. You destroyed a wedding that would help create peace between the Imperials and Stormcloaks, murdered the leader of all of Tamriel…" Maro's body trembled and look at KaNack coldly, "and you took my son from me."

"Regimes come and go with the tide," KaNack snapped at the Commander. "Get over it!"

"Get over it?" Maro whispered viciously. "Get over it?! You ruined us!" he screamed at the Argonian. "With the Emperor dead the Penitus Oculatus were seen as nothing but failures! The Dark Brotherhood that could barely stand on its legs, killed the Emperor right under his guards' very noses!"

Maro's rage grew as he continued, "I had to return to his loved ones with his body! The Penitus Oculatus were a disgrace! I was stripped of my title! We were cast out of the royal family's lives! No one would give us work! No one would even so much as look at us! You took our titles, our reputations and our very lives from us!"

"They took your title?" KaNack asked in surprise.

"Yes."

"Then technically you aren't a commander anymore."

Maro took a step back at the blunt gall of the Dark Brotherhood leader. The Imperial's lips thinned and he pointed a shaky finger at the mage.

"Take off your mask."

"Pardon?"

"Take it off! I want to see the face of the man who ruined my life!"

KaNack sighed and slowly reached up and pulled Nahkriin from his face and stared at Maro defiantly. The Commander took another step back in shock.

"You? But, you were the one who posed as the Gourmet! You were killed!"

"No, you just decided to leave and assumed I was killed," KaNack growled. "You were so confident! So satisfied with yourself that you didn't find it necessary to see if I would fall or not."

KaNack started towards Maro, but when the soldiers lifted their weapons, the mage decided it would be better to stand his ground.

"Look, Maro," the Argonian started. "I killed your family and you killed mine. Just as you had to respect and follow orders from you superior, so did I. It's nothing personal, it was just business."

"I'm making it personal," Maro replied viciously. "Now, your men are out there at the mercy of the Penitus Oculatus. You are here with no one to help you. You're alone, lizard," he hissed. "You were a fool to walk in here and believe you were going to be leaving alive! Who is going to save your sorry hide now?"

KaNack chuckled wickedly and bared his sharp teeth at Maro. The sinister look made the Commander slightly uneasy.

"Alone?" he snickered. "Yes, I did as I was told and came in here by myself." The mage's eyes grew wide and his face expressed both pure joy and malice. "However, Maro, when you've dealt with contracts as long as I have…"The Imperial's eyes widened when he saw that both of the Argonian's hands were emanating a blue light, "you learn to find loopholes everywhere."

KaNack cast both lights to the ground and from them sprouted a flame atronach and a huge frost atronach.

"Brock," hissed KaNack as he glanced at the frost atronach. "April," he whispered to the flaming one. The mage pointed at the soldiers. "Kill them all."

The soldiers had little time to spread out as the flame atronach shot ball after ball of fire in their direction. The larger atronach charged forward, knocking agents left and right as it swung its massive arms.

KaNack placed his mask back on and spun around as a group of agents rushed at him with their swords drawn.

"FUS RO DAH!"

The Penitius Oculatus were sent flying backwards, and they collapsed into a tangled mess a good distance away. The mage flew past the other soldiers easily as they were frantically trying to fight off the vicious atronachs. KaNack hurried through the tunnels, but knew that he was being followed. His conjurations couldn't hold the attention of every man in that chamber.

Charging through a pair of iron doors, the mage turned around and sucked in another breath.

" IISS SLEN NUS!"

The door was sealed shut by a large shard of solid ice. Loud pounding and angry cries were heard on the other side. He knew it would not keep forever. What he had to do next would sacrifice one of his atronachs, but at this point he was running out of options.

The Argonian concentrated and then in a flash of swirling mist, the Spectral Assassin appeared before him. Lucien could tell by where they were and by the angry shouts behind the door that he and his Listener had gotten themselves into quite the bind.

"What did you do?" Lucien asked. The last he had heard, the plan had been to sneak into Volunruud quietly and unnoticed.

"Things did not exactly go as expected," KaNack explained as he gestured towards the frozen door that was starting to crack. "Nazir and the others were forced to stay outside. We have to go with Plan B now."

The Argonian pulled the piece of wrapped cloth out of his satchel and handed it to the spirit.

"We're going to have to split up. Here take this; you know what to do with it!"

There were only two other available exits. One was a manmade tunnel to another part of Volunruud, and the other was the unlocked gate behind them that led to Elder's Cairn. The mage pointed to the large gated door.

"You go ahead to Elder's Cairn. It looked like most of Maro's men were out there waiting for me. You shouldn't run into much trouble." KaNack started to back away towards the tunnel. "I'm going to lead the Penitus Oculatus this way so you won't be followed. If you find Cicero, try and get him out of here as quickly as you can."

"What if you find him?"

"I'll worry about that later!" KaNack hissed. The two jumped as a large chunk of ice broke from the iron doors and crashed to the floor. Lucien stared at it and then at the Listener in concern. "I'll be fine. Go!"

The Spectral Assassin nodded and started for the large gate.

"Sithis be with you…Lucien."

The spirit froze in place, and slowly turned back to face the mage. It had been the first time that the Listener had ever called him by his true name.

"And you as well," he answered quietly. The ghost then rushed past the gates towards Elder's Cairn. KaNack stayed close to the tunnel and waited patiently as more and more ice broke off from the door. Finally, it crashed open and the mage saw one of the enraged Imperials enter.

"YOL TOOR SHUL!"

The agents dropped to the floor as a large burst of fire flew at them from the Argonian's mouth. KaNack then rushed into the tunnel ready to lead them as far from his spirit companion as possible.

Salvarus appeared from the back, stepping over the fallen soldiers as he stared at the tunnel ahead of him.

"I don't believe it," he hissed. "The Dark Brotherhood leader is the Dragonborn!"

* * *

Lucien ran through the dark passages, avoiding pressure traps and keeping an eye out for any danger that might be lurking in the shadows. The spirit snarled and leaned backwards as he avoided the swinging blade of a Penitus Oculatus agent that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Lucien then lunged forward, plunging his spectral blade deep into the throat of the agent.

The Listener had been true to his word. He did not hear any sounds that might have indicated that he was being pursued. Part of him worried about the Listener. He did not see how many soldiers he was taking on by himself, but from what he could hear it was more than the normal lot. At least more than he should have been facing solo.

Further the spirit traveled, delving into the haunting and dank heart of Volunruud. In a chilling way, Lucien felt almost at home here. It was dark, eerie, just the way he liked it. The Spectral Assassin paused as heard a voice up ahead. Flattening himself against the cave walls, he quietly snaked his way towards an opening and looked around the corner.

It was a single Penitus Oculatus agent. Young, very young, but a soldier nonetheless. The Imperial was leaning against an old draugr sarcophagus that was still unopened. Lucien was confused as the boy was reading aloud from a small book. What kind of soldier reads when the whole base was under attack?

The spirit didn't care about trivial matters such as these. All that mattered was that it was a Penitus Oculatus agent, and he had to die. Lucien pulled the blade from his sheath and then charged forward with murder in his eyes.

"Another thrall for the Void!" he cried as he charged towards his victim. The agent saw him, dropped the book and pulled out his sword as well. Just by the way he held his weapon, Lucien could tell the lad had no clue whatsoever of how to handle the blade. His dagger in a tight grip, Lucien's hand swung past his shoulder as he prepared to slash his dagger forward at his prey.

"Who was that? There's someone else here!"

The voice made Lucien stumble and the blade lost its momentum. Instead of killing the agent, the attack only left a deep scratch on the boy's steel chest plate. The Penitus Oculatus rushed around to the other side of the coffin as he stared out at Lucien terrified. Lucien looked all over trying to figure out where the phantom voice came from.

"What are you?!" the boy screamed.

"Finn? Who is it? Who's there?"

The voice came from the coffin. After hearing it a second time, Lucien recognized it and whom it belonged to.

"A VERY angry ghost!" the soldier answered to the trapped jester.

"Oh! Spooky!" Cicero laughed. "Is his name Lucien by any chance?"

"He didn't say!" Finn answered his voice dripping with both fear and sarcasm.

The Spectral Assassin still held his blade out threateningly toward Finn as he slowly stepped closer to the crypt.

"It's Lucien, Cicero," the ghost answered. "Are you alright?"

"Cicero is quite hungry, but Kind Finn here has been keeping me company!"

"I'll kill him and then get you out of there," Lucien hissed as he started towards the young soldier.

"No! No! Lucien, hold your blade!" the jester cried. The spirit paused and stared at the coffin in confusion. "Two are needed! Two! Cicero has more than a foot in the grave, and he needs at least four feet to get out again!"

"You can't be serious," Lucien hissed as he glared at Finn with venom in his eyes. "He's one of them! A Penitus Oculatus! Because of him, you are in that horrid place!"

"If Lucien kills Finn then Cicero dies too! Poor Cicero will be stuck here and starve to death! Promise Cicero!" the Keeper cried. "Promise Cicero that the specter will NOT kill Finn!"

Finn kept himself flat against the back of the cave wall. He wanted to run, but there was no way he could move without provoking an attack from the enraged spirit before him. To make matters worse, his life was on the line between a murderous ghost and an insane jester.

"I can't do that!" Lucian snarled as he pounded the hilt of his dagger on the stony lid of the coffin. "His soul is doomed for the Void!"

"Promise Cicero!" the fool repeated angrily. "If Lucien asks nicely, Finn can help him free poor Cicero!"

The Spectral Assassin growled darkly and glowered at the young soldier.

"It's the only way!" the jester insisted.

The spirit released a sigh of frustration and moved closer to Finn, holding his blade out threateningly.

"Listen carefully, boy, because I won't repeat myself. I swear to you that you will not fall by my hand if you assist me in getting the Keeper out of that sarcophagus." Lucien then lunged forward and his blade was to Finn's throat. "However, if you try anything. If you so much as even think about reaching for a weapon, I will personally see to it that your death is a painful and lingering one." The spirit's eyes narrowed. "Do not think I am bluffing, I have had centuries of practice."

Finn could only nod his head, petrified of the violent phantom before him. Lucien sheathed his blade and then made his way to one end of the coffin.

"The two of us will have to work on opposite sides," the ghost muttered. "When I give the command, you put all your strength into pushing your end forward. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Finn answered quietly as he placed his hands on the cold stone lid.

"His name is not 'Sir'," Cicero quipped. "It's Lucien, but he's also been known to answer to 'Buddy'!" the jester laughed.

"We don't have time for jokes!" Lucien snarled. "The Listener is being taken to the Penitus Oculatus' sword as we speak! The family was forced to keep out of Volunruud and he's by himself! If we don't get you out of here soon, the Listener will be killed!"

Hearing this made the jester lose all mirth and a wave of fury rushed through his frail body.

"The Penitus Oculatus will NOT kill the Listener!" Cicero snarled. "Mother and I have waited too long to lose him! He will not fall so long as Cicero still draws breath!"

"That's what I want to hear!" Lucien turned back to the Imperial and saw that Finn was already in position. "On the count of three, push!"

Finn nodded and listened as the ghost slowly counted up. As soon as he heard the word 'three', the boy heaved with all his might. On the farm he had to pull heavy haystacks, retrieve large amounts of water from the well and manhandle the livestock. Manual labor was nothing new to the boy, and he released a straining growl as he pushed the heavy lid.

Lucien pushed as well. His pale hands in a death grip on the rough edges of the coffin lid. He growled and hissed with every heave of his body. He was a professional assassin, his strengths were in his dexterity and threshold for pain. He was not weak in life, but heavy lifting had not been part of his forte.

Loud scraping began to echo through the large chamber as the top of the coffin started to turn askew.

"Don't let up! We've almost got it!" Lucien growled out as he continued to strain. Finn did not falter for even a moment, his legs were braced on the solid stone floor as his muscles went to work forcing the lid to move.

Soon there was an opening large enough and Cicero's head popped out from the coffin not too unlike a child's toy. The ghost let go of the crypt and hurried to the jester's side to give him a quick look over.

Cicero had become thinner, even thinner than before, and his normal white skin was painted with faint bruises. Lucien pulled out his blade and grabbed the jester's wrists as he began to cut the binds from Cicero's hands.

Finn in the meantime had collapsed on top of the coffin and breathed heavily in exhaustion. Moving the lid had been no easy task and it took its toll on the young soldier. He looked over at the two Dark Brotherhood members and managed to smile. He could sense the camaraderie between the two, it was no different than what he had with some of his fellow Penitus Oculatus agents.

Lucien helped Cicero as the fool leaped out of the coffin and stumbled slightly, trying to get sensation back into his legs. He had been cooped up for a very long time and standing up was slightly difficult.

Once Cicero managed to keep himself balanced, the Spectral Assassin held out the wrapped cloth that the Listener had given to him.

"What's this? A present for Cicero?"

"You could say that," the spirit answered simply.

Finn watched as the jester slowly unwrapped the item. Cicero's eyes grew wide in delight as he held up a large, vicious looking ebony dagger.

"Why, hello again old friend," Cicero crooned as though he were speaking to a long lost lover. He ran his fingers gingerly across the blade and lustfully sighed before holding it to his cheek. "Have you missed Cicero? I've missed you. I have indeed."

Finn looked down on the floor and saw where he had dropped his father's riddle book. He snatched it up and quickly tried to leave through the back unnoticed.

"Kind Finn! Where are you going?"

The boy turned back around to Cicero, still gripping his book tightly. The jester smiled warmly and approached him with his arms opened.

"Lucien has promised not to kill Finn! I heard him! I did! You don't need to be afraid of him!"

Lucien could only grumble as he folded his arms and scowled at the soldier. As bitter as his feelings were towards the regime, deep down he knew he could not have gotten Cicero out without his help.

Finn smiled slightly as the Fool of Hearts stood before him. He had grown quite fond of the jester, and deep down he was kind of glad that he had chance of escaping.

"Cicero could never of made it this long without you, Kind Finn," the jester said as he sadly looked at the boy. "Finn kept me company. Healed me. Amused me at my darkest hour. Cicero has been blessed to have made your acquaintance!" The jester laughed and danced happily before the solider, making the boy laugh.

"Cicero will not forget Finn anytime soon, he won't!"

"I don't think I'll ever forget you either Cicero," Finn said softly as he held out his hand to the fool. "Good luck."

Cicero grinned as he took Finn's hand and shook it.

"Yes, Cicero is free now thanks to you. Cicero can proudly call Kind Finn his dear, dear friend."

The Fool of Hearts then frowned and leaned forward to whisper in Finn's ear. "That's what makes this so very hard."

Still gripping the Penitus Oculatus' hand, Cicero jerked him forward. Finn could only release a weak grunt as his eyes widened with shock. Cicero's ebony dagger easily broke through the steel plating that had already been damaged by the Spectral Assassin.

Pulling his hand free from the jester's grip, Finn grabbed hold of Cicero's arms to brace himself, and then rested his head on the fool's shoulder as he started to weakly slump to the floor. Cicero kept the blade plunged in, but with his free hand, he wrapped an arm around Finn. He held him close in a comforting embrace and shushed the boy trying to calm him.

"Cicero knows it hurts," he whispered in sympathy. "He knows all too well. It will pass though, Kind Finn. Where you are going there will be no more disease and no more pain. Surely Finn can hold on for a few more moments of pain for an eternity of none?"

The embrace tightened as the two were now on the floor together, the jester could feel his friend's grip on his arms weaken. Cicero kept his tight embrace with Finn until he felt the breathing stop and the heart went from a rapid beating, to a slow thump and then nothing.

The Jester removed the ebony dagger from his friend and wiped the blood off on the side of his boots. The fool looked to the side and spotted the small yellow book. He picked it up and stored it in the inner flap of his boot. With on final look at the dead farm boy, Cicero gave a silent farewell and rose from the floor to return to Lucien.

"I kept my promise, I didn't kill him," the Spectral Assassin muttered as he crossed his arms. "For a moment there though, I thought you were actually going to let him live."

"No loose ends," Cicero growled coldly.

The two then hurried back through the passage. The Listener was in danger, and there were still more of Maro's men to kill.


	10. Salvarus and the Spectral Assassin

KaNack had led the mob of angry soldiers through the many passages of Volunruud. Every so often he would spin around to shoot a fire bolt down the tunnel, either killing an agent or forcing the group to duck. It had only been a matter of time before he managed to come full circle back to the main chamber.

He did not come across Cicero during the pursuit, which could only mean that Lucien would find the Fool of Hearts. That gave the mage enough drive to face the questionable odds. When he arrived in the chamber, the only atronach remaining was the large frost one that was standing about, nudging the dead corpses surrounding it. KaNack was a master conjurer, but could only have two spirits present at the same time. The Spectral Assassin currently was one and the atronach he lovingly named 'Brock' was the other.

The Argonian stood his ground and bolts of lightning shot from his fingers as the Penitus Oculatus flooded the chamber. There were still at least a dozen soldiers left that he could see.

"Brock!" he called out.

The atronach turned around and charged at the soldiers, a few well aimed arrows however made the atronach crumble into a pile of ash. The conjuration had simply taken too much damage during the fight. There was not enough time to conjure a new one, so KaNack was forced to face the brigade by his lonesome.

He kept his ward up with one hand as he shot fire bolts from the other. Swords and arrows struck the protective ward and came very close to contacting the mage behind it. This process continued for a while, and Kanack struggled to keep his ward up. Retaining the protective barrier was using up all of his magicka; it would only be a matter of time before it ran out, leaving him at the mercy of the deadly weapons. Clever being that he was, the Argonian still had one last trick up his sleeve. The mage sucked in a deep breath.

"FAAS RU MAAR!"

The Shout struck the agents and a few of the Penitus Oculatus cowered to the ground while others ran in terror for the tunnels. The mage took advantage of the soldiers' fear, and charged up one final strike. He released a barrage of fireballs into the men's direction, the flames contacting their targets. All the mage could see was silhouettes of flailing bodies and a raging blaze as the roar and crash of the fire drowned out the screams. He continued firing until he finally ran out of magicka.

The scene was a grizzly one. Charred bodies littered the ground before him. How fortunate that they were already in a tomb, no one needed to be buried. The Argonian panted and rested his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. The fight had not been an easy one, but he managed to survive somehow. All he had to do now was wait for his spirit to return with his friend. Then they could leave this wretched place and tend to the Night Mother before it was too late.

KaNack's head picked up as he heard a raging snarl, and gasped as he was charged from behind. The Argonian was smashed face first into the hard rocky cavern walls, knocking Nahkriin off. One the mage's arms was pinned behind his back painfully as his assailant grabbed at his damaged horn.

KaNack screamed in pain as the cracked horn was grappled, and blinding pain filled his head. He could not focus, he could barely even see so long as the horn was held.

Salvarus had kept to the back of the large group, and had seen the mage prepare for a Shout. Unlike the others, he managed to avoid the effects of the terrifying call. He gave the mage a few sharp knees to the kidneys before hurling him harshly to the ground.

The Penitus Oculatus drew his sword and approached KaNack menacingly as the Listener struggled to get to his feet, still suffering from his sensitive horn being attacked. Out of the corner of his eye, the Argonian saw Salvarus approach. He rarely ever used this particular strategy, since his main source of weaponry had been magic, but there was no time to charge up an attack.

KaNack's long slender tail came to life and swung into the agent, knocking Salvarus to the ground. The mage then pounced onto the soldier and place a hand in front of the Imperial's face.

"Now serve time in the Void," he growled menacingly as his hand began to glow and heat emanated from it. The Dark Brotherhood leader had been so focused on Salvarus that he had completely forgotten about the most important man of the brigade.

Sharp steel punctured through the fragile Arch Mage robes and into the shoulder as Maro drove his sword into the distracted Argonian. KaNack screamed in pain and released his hold on his intended victim. Salvarus struggled out from under the Listener and managed to get a safe distance away. Maro pulled his sword from KaNack and the Listener staggered forward as he swayed on his feet. The pain was horrible, a mage relies on his magic to protect himself and therefore was very vulnerable to melee attacks of any kind.

He panted and grasped at his shoulder as he stared at Maro furiously. What confused the Black Hand leader, however, was that it felt like all his magicka had been sucked from his body. The Commander chuckled wickedly as he held his sword up for the mage to see. There was a faint blue glow to the weapon, it had been enchanted.

"Your jester friend kept many secrets, but he made it abundantly clear that you were a mage," Maro sneered as he slowly approached the Argonian. "We came upon this little magicka absorbing sword during our travels. It's funny what some people leave lying around." He chuckled again. "Some may call it junk; I personally call it a treasure."

"Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately," KaNack grumbled. The Commander charged at KaNack with confidence as he gripped the sword's hilt tightly. The Listener was injured and his magicka was still too weak to do anything to attack, all he could do was defend himself the only way he knew how.

"ZUN!" the mage Shouted as soon as Maro got close enough. The enchanted sword flew from the Commander's hands, leaving him facing a furious mage with no weapon. KaNack had a split second to decide as his magicka had recharged. He had only enough to cast one spell. Attack the Commander, or heal himself. It was an easy choice.

The mage shot his hands forwards and lightning cracked into Maro's protective armor, sending the Imperial flying back, and tumbling onto the unforgiving stone ground.

The mage prepared himself for another attack when his body felt like it was on fire. He screamed and hugged his chest as he collapsed to the ground and writhed in pain. His temperature rose, he felt weak, his organs burned as though they were layered in acid. The pain was so great that all the Listener could do was wail in agony.

Maro released a loud sinister laugh as Salvarus helped him to his feet. The two approached the fallen mage, and Maro picked his sword back up at they got closer.

"Yes! Enchanted weapons are a grand tool to have! However, they are even more efficient if you coat them with poison first!"

The two Pentitus Ocularus agents approached the mage who was still in anguish and at their mercy. Tears of pain crawled down his cheeks as he fumbled frantically in his satchel for his potion of cure poison. As he pulled it out, Maro kicked it from his hands and then held his boot down hard on the Argonian's throat.

"I think you've done enough Shouting for a lifetime, don't you Dragonborn?" Salavrus snarled viciously as he stood next to his commander.

Maro leered down at the mage who was in insurmountable pain.

"Quite a rare ingredient, that," he remarked darkly. "There wasn't much of it at all. The alchemists had to dilute it so that I would be able to coat my blade. I can only imagine how long it's going to take to finally finish the job. You might be familiar with this particular poison. You did use it to kill the Emperor's double!"

Jarrin root, a rare but toxic plant. It had been known in small undiluted doses to kill a man within sixty seconds.

"This is so perfect that I can hardly stand it! The Dragonborn! The Imperial Army's greatest ally was nothing more than a cutthroat assassin! Tullius will never be able to live it down that he fought side by side with the man who killed our beloved Emperor! The General cast me out of Solitude in disgrace, but he'll have to be the one begging for forgiveness soon!"

KaNack grabbed Maro's leg, but was too weak to use his magic, and with his windpipes being crushed, he could not even Shout. The poison was working quickly; he did not know how much longer he could fight off death.

"The hero of Skyrim indeed," Maro scoffed as he glared down at the Listener. "Look at you! No magic! No Shouting! You're pathetic! It's amazing how weak you truly are!"

Maro's fists clenched as he scowled at of the dying Argonian, and he continued to taunt him.

"I look forward to marching those little friends of yours to Solitude where their heads will be promptly chopped off! With the Dark Brotherhood destroyed, the Penitus Oculatus will finally make amends for the loss of the Emperor! We will make a bright and glorious comeback!"

The Commander leaned down so that he was eye to eye with the mage.

"To think, you could have avoided all this if you had just left that lunatic to die. Tell me, Dragonborn. I wish to know. Why did you do it? Why did you risk your life and bring forth the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood for one stupid little jester?"

"No man left behind," KaNack managed to splutter out as he struggled to speak with the Imperial still keeping pressure on his windpipe.

His answer only made Maro laugh even harder.

"You fool! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! An assassin with a heart?! Now I've seen everything!"

The Argonian only glared up at Maro hatefully. He didn't have much time left.

"A black and red Argonian," the Imperial mused. "The colors of the Dark Brotherhood. It seems like such a shame to waste patterns like that." Maro held his sword out to KaNack. "Perhaps after your death, I'll have you skinned and turn your hide into decorative armor."

KaNack shut his eyes and groaned inwardly. So this was how it was going to end, after everything he had worked for? He only wished he could see his loving Brelyna one last time, one last goodbye to his heart and desire.

There was a sickening thunk sound and Maro's foot lifted from KaNack's throat. The Commander screamed in pain as he stumbled backwards and collapsed onto the ground. Salvarus turned and his eyes widened in shock. A spectral arrow was stuck into the knee of his leader, the very leg that had been used to hold the Argonian down.

Maro groaned and screamed in agony as he tenderly held his leg. Salvarus spun around to see but a cloaked spirit with a bow, and right next to him was the insane jester himself.

"Protect the Listener!" Lucien ordered as he replaced his bow with his dagger. "I'll handle this filth!"

"Of course!"

Lucien lunged at Salvarus, his eyes wide with fury. The Imperial held his sword up and blocked the attack. Again and again the Spectral Assassin struck at the agent, forcing him back into another tunnel.

Cicero fell to the ground as he stared at the Argonian with terror.

"Listener! Listener!"

The mage weakly pointed over at the small red potion bottle across the room. Maro had kicked it away, but fortunately the bottle was still intact.

"Cicero," he weakly groaned. "The potion!"

"Of course, Listener!"

The fool ran over to the bottle and snatched it up. He was in such a rush to get back to his dying brother that he dropped to his stomach, still holding the potion out to the mage. KaNack grabbed the elixir and drank its contents as fast as he could. He coughed loudly a few times, and then shut his eyes as his head lowered to the floor weakly.

"Listener?" Cicero asked as he moved closer to the Argonian, their noses almost touching. "KaNack?" he whimpered using his friend's name this time. The mage's eyes slowly opened and he weakly looked up into his jester's golden irises.

"Cicero? You're safe?"

"Yes, Listener! Cicero has come to rescue you!"

The two stared at each other in silence, then began to roar with laughter at how backwards everything had become. Cicero tittered and giggled as KaNack cackled and hooted.

"What in Oblivion is so funny?!" Maro barked as he struggled to try and remove the Spectral Assassin's arrow. "The two of you nearly died!"

The laughter died down to chuckling as KaNack sat up and looked over at the Commander, then back to his beloved fool.

"He just doesn't get it," sighed the mage.

"No, no he does not."

* * *

Salvarus growled as again and again the spirit came at him, slashing his blade left and right trying to make contact with the Imperial. Lucien tossed the blade into the air and caught it with his other hand, then swung forward to try and strike at an area the soldier was not defending.

As the dagger scraped along Salvarus' chest plate, sparks shot out from the armor. Unlike some of the other Penitus Oculatus armor that the soldiers had, both he and the Commander had upgraded theirs from steel to ebony. Why shouldn't the best have the best?

"Fall , damn you!" the Imperial snarled as he tried to hit the agile spirit with his sword. The Spectral Assassin easily dodged the slow swing of the sword and continued to slash at the man with his blade.

With another swipe from Lucien, Salvarus released a grunt of pain and staggered backwards. A small trickle of blood on his cheek alerted him that the ghost's blade had finally made contact.

Releasing a cry of fury, the ghost charged forward at the agent once again. This time, Salvarus sidestepped it and swung his blade making contact with the Spectral Assassin. The sword ripped through his torso and out again, pulling blue vapors out with it.

Lucien crashed to the floor and gradually managed to stagger to his feet, trying to recover from the attack. When he turned around he saw that the Imperial was gone. There were four tunnels going in different directions. Which one had the agent hidden himself in?

Lucien pulled out his bow and produced another spectral arrow. He slowly began to approach one of the tunnels, ready to release one into Salvarus as soon as he was spotted.

"I must say, you have more drive than any other spirit I've ever come across!" Salvarus' voice echoed through the chamber. Lucien spun around, still drawing his bow. There was no sign of the Penitus Oculatus agent.

"I'm not like any phantom you have experienced. They are weak!" Lucien scoffed. "You will not take me as easily as them."

"The Dark Brotherhood's pet ghoul! Yes, I've heard of you!"

Lucien's eyes narrowed in hatred as he continued to search for the wretched agent.

"You were taken quite easily!" Salvarus sneered, mocking the assassin. "You did not even draw a weapon before you fell! I shall send you back to Oblivion where you belong soon enough!"

"Try to strike me now if you dare," Lucien challenged, his voice dripping with menace. "See if you can best the spirit of the Dark Brotherhood." The Spectral Assassin peered behind another tunnel opening, but still found no sign of his prey.

"Come out and fight me coward! That weak boy who guarded our jester faced death with more bravery than you!"

"You do realize that you are doing nothing but delaying the inevitable," Salvarus' voice hissed through the chambers. Lucien's scowled as he entered a tunnel looking all around. The echo was so vibrant that he could not discern the voice's origin. There was nothing but stacked crypts, filled with draugr in the passage.

"What do you mean?" snarled Lucien.

"History is doomed to repeat itself! Do you not think that after all this your weak Argonian friend is going to want to risk his life again?"

Lucien's growled in frustration and the hand grasping his arrow began to tremble with anger. He was growing restless and wanted nothing more than to end the ranting of the insufferable Imperial.

"He's going to either betray you or abandon the Dark Brotherhood! It's happened in the past already! Astrid was willing to sacrifice the Listener, the highest ranking and most honorable member of the Dark Brotherhood, for her own selfish means!"

"You know nothing about him!" Lucien shouted as he spun around and shot an arrow. It landed right between the eyes of an already dead draugr. Lucien stared at it in shock and jumped when the Imperial's voice spoke up again.

"If HE doesn't betray the Dark Brotherhood, then the others will!" Salvarus shouted angrily. "Any man can be won over if enough gold is offered. One of your 'brothers' will gladly turn the rest of you in if the price is right!"

"Liar!" roared Lucien. He started running through the chambers, panting in aggravation as the Imperial was starting to get to him. Once a man gets into your head, you are bound to make a mistake that can cost you your life. The Spectral Assassin was desperate to find the agent and tried to not let Salvarus' venomous words stray him from focusing on the task at hand.

"It has happened! Look at the history books!" laughed the Penitus Oculatus agent. "The Commander and I spent hours researching that sick cult of yours! Centuries ago, a Speaker for the Black Hand betrayed the Brotherhood by sending an assassin after his own precious family members!"

Lucien suddenly came stumbling to a stop almost tripping over his own feet. He stared ahead in disbelief at what he had just heard. The soldier knew of the Dark Brotherhood's chilling past, and that alarmed the Spectral Assassin. Intentional or not, Salvarus had struck the spirit far too close to home. Lucien shuddered as the haunting memories of his past came forth, invading his mind like a parasite.

"Did I strike a nerve?" Salvarus hissed scornfully. "You know all about it then! Yes, he had almost succeeded in killing off every one of Sithis' loyal followers! Maro told me that his treachery was brought forth because of jealousy! He just could not stand that he was not the favored son of Sithis! So if he couldn't be the best, no one could!"

"You're wrong!" Lucien howled as he dropped his bow to the ground and started to back away, looking in all directions. He was getting confused, he couldn't figure out which way to go. "That's not what happened!"

"Of course it is! I cannot remember the poor wretch's name, but his story is quite famous! I admire that man! Killing the Dark Brotherhood from the inside out? What genius! I'd like to shake his hand for almost accomplishing that which we are aiming to do!"

"There was a betrayal! But it was not that man!" Lucien screamed and charged forward into the tunnels once more. He panted and his eyes frantically danced about. He needed to find the soldier. If nothing but to only cut out his lying tongue so that it would be silenced once and for all.

"Yes , there was betrayal!" the Imperial agreed. "In the end though, his surviving brothers and sisters found where the culprit was hiding." Salvarus chuckled darkly. "You seem to know this story! You can guess what happened next!"

Lucien finally collapsed to the ground and released shuddering breaths. His eyes were wide with terror as he thought back the worst moment of his life as a living man. The feeling of helplessness when those he had come to trust and love turned on him before he could prove his innocence.

"They all attacked at once! Bound him! Mutilated him! Some even fed from his flesh!"

The Spectral Assassin covered his ears, but there was no escaping the tormenting voice.

"Then they hung him like a hog for the slaughter as they continued to butcher their once dear friend! He must have suffered greatly before he finally died, but not before they stripped him of his clothes and his very dignity! It was retribution at its very best and very worst!"

Lucien released a quiet sob as he kept his head lowered to the ground. Tears dripped from his chin, but they vanished into small mists just moments before they hit the earth. He did not wish to think back to his final moments in life. Bellamont had gotten his revenge on the assassin, and the memories from that dark time would haunt the Spectral Assassin forever.

"I guess all traitors suffer for their betrayal in the end. His just happened to be more spectacular than most."

The spirit's upper lip suddenly curled up in a snarl and his eyes squeezed shut as anger began to build up within him.

"I…" he started quietly. "did not…" The Spectral Assassin then sprung to life as he leaped into the air with a spin, brandishing his sharp blade. "BETRAY MY FAMILY!"

Salvarus barely dodged the deadly dagger as is flew just inches away from his face. Screaming with rage, the Spectral Assassin swung his blade with all his might at the Imperial.

Tears of anger continued to flow from his eyes as the assassin attacked with an animal-like ferocity that had been fueled by hate and despair, brought forth from the soldier's painful history lesson.

Spark after spark shot from the chest plate and deep scratches began to form onto the agent's armor. Even ebony had its limits when it came to the wrath of Sithis.

Lucien had become flustered by his passion though, and Salvarus managed to slam his shoulder into the spirit knocking him back into the cave wall. Lucien froze, and flattened himself against the wall as the soldier's sword was held to his throat.

"You?" he asked in disbelief. "Are you serious? You were the infamous traitor to the Dark Brotherhood?" Salvarus laughed bitterly as he shook his head. "Disgraced in life and shamed in death! It's suiting that you ended up being those assassins' puppet. Sithis certainly knows how to reward treachery."

Lucien trembled in rage at the Penitus Oculatus agent's disrespect. "It doesn't matter if you speak the truth or not. All that matters is what the history books read, and they say you were a weak, jealous, traitor and that the Dark Brotherhood put you down like a mongrel!"

Salvarus grinned wickedly as he kept his sword to the spirit's throat. "Do answer me this question though. I am very curious, as the history books failed to mention it. What is the name of the infamous traitor to the Black Hand?"

"Mathieu Bellamont," Lucien spat out viciously.

"And is that your name?" he sneered.

"No…" the Spectral Assassin growled. The spirit's arms then shot up, pushing Salvarus' sword up and away from his throat. The spirit ducked behind the Imperial and wrapped an arm around the man's head, pulling it backwards. The other free hand gripped the hilt of the spectral blade tightly.

"I am Lucien LaChance!"

Salvarus' eyes widened in shock as he heard the named mentioned.

"YOU?!"

The dagger fell and plunged deep into the throat of Salvarus, and the ghost threw the Imperial to the ground. He watched, trembling with anger as the soldier's life slowly faded.

"You murdered my father," the soldier choked out as he tried holding a hand to his ruptured throat.

"Yes, I did," Lucien growled. "Now join him in the Void."

The agent released a gurgle before finally slumping to the ground. He was Sithis' thrall now.

Breathing heavily, Lucien collapsed to the ground and held his face in his hands. It was over, it was finally all over. He took a few minutes to recover and get his emotions in check. The Spectral Assassin had been exhausted both mentally and physically and did not want to return to the Listener while he still appeared weak. Wiping the last few tears from his eyes, he released an exhausted sigh. The ghost stood up and gradually began making his way back out through the tunnels.

Lucien emerged into the main chamber and was relieved to see the Listener and Cicero making small talk. Whatever had happened while he was busy with the soldier, the Argonian clearly had recovered from his brush with death.

Slowly the spirit made his way over to his brothers. KaNack stared cautiously at the Spectral Assassin and then spoke up with apprehension.

"What of the agent?" he asked.

"Dead," Lucien answered simply.

The spirit grunted as he, along with Cicero was pulled into a tight embrace by the mage.

"I could never have made it without you guys. Thank you for being there," the Argonian whispered as he pulled them tighter. Lucien smiled sadly and accepted the warm hold of the Listener. Eventually, the Dark Brotherhood leader released his grip and backed away to look at his two dearest friends.

"It's done. Cicero, we have to get you back to the sanctuary at once. The Night Mother is in dire need of your care."

"Of course!" Cicero replied in all seriousness. "Cicero is weak, but he's more than capable of tending to our Mother."

"You fool!" a voice snarled.

The three turned around and saw Maro on his feet. He had since removed the arrow from his kneecap, but was holding onto a tunnel opening to keep his balance. "You forgot that I still have men outside!" He smiled at them wickedly. "The moment they see you leaving, all of you were be killed by our archers!"

The Pentitus Oculatus Commander nodded his head. "You've still lost."

"I don't think so," KaNack growled. "See, I am usually fairly aware of my surroundings. Before entering Volunruud, I looked past the archers to see if there was an escape route for my lovely assassins." The Argonian then smiled at the Commander sinisterly. "In the distance, coming their way was a hungry Ancient dragon."

Maro's expression dropped and his eyes widened with horror.

"I instructed my family to be still and quiet while they were safety tucked away in the pit of this tomb's entrance. I doubt yours had the sense to try and remain calm around that beast. I would think by now that your precious men are roasting in the gullet of a dovah."

"No," hissed the Commander.

The Argonian nodded his head and snickered wickedly.

"That makes you…." KaNack started.

"The last…" Cicero continued.

"Penitus Oculatus," Lucien finished.

KaNack turned to Cicero and made a gesture towards the wounded Imperial. "Cicero, you may have the honor."

"Cicero has already killed a Penitus Oculatus," he sighed sadly. "He is too tired to swing his blade again." The jester looked at Maro with a playful twinkle in his eyes. "Cicero does have another idea of what to do with the last man! He does!" Cicero clapped his hands, proud with his thought process. "Cicero is inspired! A bed for the Commander! The last bed he will ever sleep in," he giggled evilly.

Maro's body tensed up as a slow realization began to hit him and he shook his head slowly. His eyes pleaded for mercy, but there was none to be had.

"You already know of it, Commander. Cicero thinks you will like it. It's dark, snug, and peacefully quiet."


	11. Family of Assassins, Epilogue

It had been a month since the Penitus Oculatus had taken their final stand against the Dark Brotherhood. With Maro buried alive, the threat plaguing the Dawnstar Sanctuary had finally come to an end.

With the safe return of the Keeper, the Night Mother's voice had once again appeared in the Listener's head. He was congratulated for proving his worthiness to lead the Dark Brotherhood. With this victory came an important lesson. Sometimes there were reasons to abide by the Old Ways, no matter what personal feelings one had for his friends.

Even though the jester was a dear, loyal and efficient companion for KaNack, the incident with Commander Maro made him realize that his safety was more important that the mage's own wants. With a heavy heart, the Listener decided to no longer allow his beloved fool to accompany him on any more contracts. He instead would remain in the safety of Dawnstar.

With the loss of his jester as a follower, KaNack took Shaleez under his wing to continue her training in the fine arts of destruction magic, just as Festus had done with him. She was making great progress, and with any luck, might be running her own sanctuary after a few years of practice.

Cicero in the end did miss the thrill of going out on adventures and getting to send new souls to the Void, but he was happy and remembered that as Keeper for the Night Mother he was no longer meant to take on contracts.

KaNack entered through the Black Door and brushed some newly fallen snow from his Dark Brotherhood mage robes as his two other companions followed him inside.

"You need a little more work on aiming your lightning, but I have to say that you are making progress, Shaleez."

The younger Argonian smiled at her leader and then turned to the Spectral Assassin as she crossed her arms.

"It didn't help that Lucien was staring over my shoulder the whole time."

"Trust me, you get used to it," the mage chuckled. "He'll soon become your eyes and ears. He helped mold me into the killer I am today. He's your voice of reason and wisdom, and soon he'll become a part of you." He stared at Lucien. "A rather judgmental part of you, but he means well."

The trio made their way down the stairs and KaNack walked over towards the Night Mother's shrine. Cicero was humming happily to himself as he wiped the coffin with a rag to keep it looking clean. The fool jumped with joy as he saw the mage make his way over to him.

"Listener!" he chirped. "Home again! Home again! It's been a while since we've seen you!"

"Had a contract all the way over in Riften," started KaNack. He then glared at the spirit. "Then somebody thought it would be a good idea for Shaleez to start practicing her magic on random strangers."

"Practice does make perfect," Lucien answered simply.

"Oh, Lucien!" laughed Cicero. "Such a funny specter!"

KaNack rubbed his hands together and grinned at his companions.

"Well, it's the end of the month, you know what that means."

"Pay day?" asked Shaleez as she bounced in excitement.

"Pay day," confirmed the mage. "Come on, guys. Cicero you too!"

"Of course, Listener! Cicero was just thinking he was running low on coin!"

The group made its way down the stairs to the large center room where Nazir and the others had already gathered. Once they had all taken their seats, the Redguard spoke up.

"Despite a minor setback last month, I am pleased to say that this was one of our most profitable months yet! I don't know why, but winter just seems to bring out the bloodlust in people."

KaNack and the others knocked on the wooden table in applause. Nazir held up his hands for silence before continuing.

"This reminds me of another winter a few years back. I had just been assigned to poison the Jarl of Markarth's minstrels, and…"

"Gold…Gold…Gold…" Vytalas started to chant as he pounded a fist on the table. Slowly all the others joined in until a frenzied 'Gold' chant started and the table rumbled from the many fists hitting it.

"Fine! Alright, I get your point!" snapped Nazir. He rolled his eyes and looked over at the Spectral Assassin. "Did you have to put up with this nonsense back in your day?"

"In my day?" Lucien asked. "Of course not."

"Thank you!" the Redguard exclaimed as he glared at the others. "See? Why don't we all take a moment to reflect…"

"In my day, we threw daggers if we grew restless for pay."

The room erupted in laughter as the assassins continued to pound on the table in glee. KaNack finally held up his hands and the others calmed down.

"Come on Nazir! Stop wasting time! We have septims to spend!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," muttered the older assassin. He reached under the table and picked up a wooden crate that was filled with coin purses. He pulled out a large one and hurled it at the Argonian. "Here KaNack, you greedy bastard!"

"Love you too," the mage snickered as he opened the bag and pulled out a single gold septim. Slowly, the Redguard distributed all the coin purses until there was only a single, small one left.

"Finally, the jester." He hurled the bag over and the fool reached over snatched it from the air.

"Cicero thanks you!"

KaNack stared at the coin purse in confusion. "That's a lot smaller than I remember it being. You can't have lost that much just by not going on contracts anymore." He glared at the Redguard. "Nazir, quit holding out on Cicero!"

"I'm not holding out on anyone!" barked the Redguard. "He insisted that half of it be sent to Cyrodiil to a…" He paused and looked back to the fool. "What was her name again?"

"Oh, her name's not important. It's Cicero's mother," the jester answered.

Everyone stopped counting their septims, and slowly turned to stare at the jester as though he had grown another head. Cicero noticed this and laughed loudly.

"No! No! Not the Night Mother! She's quite dead! What could she possible do with Cicero's gold?" The Fool of Hearts shook his head still chuckling. "No, this is Cicero's real mother."

"I…" started KaNack. "I had no idea she was still living. I just assumed…"

"Oh, Listener never asked," answered Cicero. "Yes, my mother is going through hard times. Cicero's gold should help her."

Lucien stared at the jester puzzled, and then narrowed his eyes as his lips thinned.

"Look at that! An assassin, a Keeper and the face of generosity! I am inspired!" KaNack laughed as he stood from his seat. "We should all take a page from Cicero's book and follow his example!"

The Argonian pointed towards the stairwell.

"To the Windpeak Inn!" he announced. "First rounds are on Nazir!"

"Wait a minute, what?!"

A chorus of 'huzzah's filled the chamber as all the assassins got up and started for the door, thirsty and eager for a good time.

"Hey! Stop! I didn't agree to anything! Dammit, don't ignore me!" the Redguard barked as he chased after the young initiates.

"Thanks Nazir!" chimed Kaie.

"I'm not paying for your drinks!"

KaNack laughed loudly and clapped his hands in amusement as he saw the frantic Redguard go after the next generation of assassins. Babette shook her head before smiling at him.

"You're so mean."

"All in good fun," snickered KaNack. "Will you be joining us Babette?"

"Why not? Come on, I'll let you buy an older woman a drink."

Argonian offered her his arm like a gentleman, and the smaller girl took it.

"Lucien! Cicero! You too! Come on!"

"Spirits with the spirit!" laughed Cicero. "A joke! A funny joke!"

"We'll be right with you, Listener," Lucien said quietly. "The Keeper and I need a word."

"Okay," started KaNack. "Don't take too long. Those young ones look to you for discipline. I can't guarantee that they won't start using the bard's flute as a dart before you get there."

"When you say the young ones, do you really mean yourself?" sighed the Spectral Assassin.

"Exactly!" KaNack laughed.

"I'm sure you'll manage somehow."

The Argonian and vampire vanished up the stairs to join the rest of their family at the local inn. Cicero turned to the Spectral Assassin, still grinning.

"Tell me what is on the kindly specter's mind."

Lucien glared at Cicero as he shook his head.

"Cicero, you know as well as I do that your mother has been dead for the last thirty years."

The smile vanished from the jester and he scowled at the floor.

"Was the book not a good enough trophy? You had to take his mother as well?"

"That is no trophy," the jester grumbled. "It is Cicero trying to make amends for Kind Finn." The fool glared at the spirit. "I have taken many lives with glee. It was thrilling! Satisfying!" The jester pulled the small yellow book from his boot and looked at it sadly. "With Finn, Cicero got no pleasure. Only pain."

"If you hadn't done it, the Listener would have. Why are you doing this? You're not one known for his charity."

"Finn was a terrible soldier and would have made a worse assassin," Cicero muttered. "But he was a good friend and an even better son. He cared for his mother, how could Cicero just let his mother suffer because he chose the wrong side?"

"We're killers!" snapped Lucien. "We take lives! What do we care who else gets hurt? If we tried to make amends for every life we took, the Dark Brotherhood would not be able to stay alive! Forget about that boy! He was just another soul for the Void"

"He was NOT just another soul!" Cicero snarled at the ghost as he slammed his fist on the table furiously. "Finn was Cicero's friend! I would have died long before you or the Listener got there if not for him!" The jester panted as he scowled at the Spectral Assassin.

"If there was any other way, Cicero would have tried to make it work! We had no choice! No single Penitus Oculatus could be left alive! I understood that, and I took care of it! That does not mean I enjoyed it!"

Cicero head lowered as he looked at the book sadly. "I just wanted to make things right. If that means Cicero pretends to be another Imperial's son, then so be it. No one else should get hurt. Not people like them." He scowled at Lucien with resentment. "You didn't know him, you could not possibly understand."

The Spectral Assassin sighed as he took a seat next to the jester. "I've never seen you react like this to a kill. Perhaps it was for the best that he was your last life to take."

"There's no guarantee of that. If Cicero has to kill again, he will," the fool growled. He then got a look of sorrow in his eyes and turned to face Lucien. "Have you seen him in the Void? Kind Finn?"

"I have."

The jester stared at the spirit expectantly. Lucien shut his eyes and realized that this was important to his Keeper.

"He's not mad, if that's what you're wondering," the ghost muttered. "He's more confused than anything else. He trusted you Cicero, and you betrayed that trust with a warm embrace."

Cicero gently opened up the riddle book as he read through a few of the brainteasers. "Can you give him a message for me?"

"That's against the rules, you know that," Lucien growled. "I can't take anything to the Void with me that is not mine to give. Not even a friend's wishes. You will just have to learn to live with your actions."

Lucien got out of his seat placed a comforting hand on the jester's shoulder. "Do what you always do. Crack a joke about your kill, and move on."

"It's hard."

"We all have had to make kills that we did not agree with. If we always let our conscious get the better of us, none of us could make it as assassins."

The ghost managed to pull the Keeper out of his chair and began to lead him up the stairs. "Come along, a stiff drink might be just what you need."

The two made their way out into the snow storm that was blowing through Dawnstar. They fought the elements and managed to make their way to the warm security of the Windpeak Inn. Inside, they found all their companions, no longer in their Dark Brotherhood garb, but their fancy clothes. KaNack was standing on top of a table with a huge mug of ale in his hand. The others had drinks as well, with Nazir at the bar looking rather miserable as he pulled out his coin purse.

Thoring took Nazir's money and then saw Lucien enter with Cicero. "Oh no, that ghost is back!" He pointed at the specter angrily. "Hey! Shoo! You are going to scare away all my costumers!"

KaNack stopped laughing as did all the other members of the Dark Brotherhood. Menacing eyes stared holes into the Nord as the inn became silent as the grave.

"I'm sorry," started the mage with a hiss, "did you just tell my friend to 'Shoo'?"

"He is one of us," growled Dro'marash. "One of our brothers."

"You'd better apologize," Nazir muttered from his spot at the bar as he sipped his ale. Thoring stared at the Redguard. "Things might start to get ugly. Ugly is never a good thing with these guys."

The Nord held up his hands as he realized that now more than half of his costumers were turning on him, and they did not look like the type that used their words to settle disagreements.

"Sorry! I don't know what I was thinking! No! No! It's fine! He can stay!"

"Smart man, that's what I'd thought you'd say," KaNack grumbled. "Now get my jester a sweet roll and some mead!"

The innkeeper mumbled to himself as he left for the pantry.

The innkeeper's daughter was Dawnstar's resident bard and could usually be found singing in the inn. This time however she was mingling. She was settled at a table with another bard who had been traveling across Skyrim. He was a strong blond Nord and was showing her his lute proudly.

"Yeah, I've been called the greatest bard in the entire Pale," he boasted.

"Really, Sven?" Karita muttered, not at all impressed.

"Of course! Why would I lie? Want to hear a favorite of mine?"

"Sure why not?" she sighed with a roll of her eyes. She figured that his playing might at least drown out the banter of the resident idiots drinking at the inn.

Sven stood from the table and positioned his lute as he started to play a few notes.

"We drink to our youth, and to days come and gone.  
For the age of oppression is now nearly done."

Karita's eyes widened, and she motioned frantically with her hands as she looked in KaNack's general direction.

"Sven! No! Not that one!"

"We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own.  
With our blood and our steel we will take back our home."

KaNack looked over at Sven, still perched atop the table. His eyes narrowed as he recognized the tune.

"All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King!  
In your great honor we drink…"

Sven screamed as his lute suddenly burst into flames. He dropped the instrument, and jumped away from it. He looked back over at the group and saw the Argonian with a palm forward, still smoking from the fire bolt he had cast.

"Ulfric Stormcloak is dead! Long live the Empire!" he roared as he raised a fist in the air.

"Long live the Empire!" the others cheered with raised mugs.

"Get out of here with that mess you call a lute! We don't need bards singing honor to that fat racist bastard! Out!"

The Nord could not scramble out of the Windpeak Inn fast enough. KaNack laughed heartily as did the others, and mugs were clinked together in triumph. The Argonian looked down from the table and saw Lucien glaring up at him. The Spectral Assassin's arms were crossed and he frowned at the mage in disappointment.

"Uhh, for the Empire?" he stated meekly.

"A great shot Listener!" Cicero exclaimed as he joined Lucien's side. "That lute did not stand a chance to your might!" The jester then began to dance. "Ho! Ho! Ho! Hee! Hee! Hee! Break that lute across my knee!"

The other Dark Brotherhood members clapped and laughed as they sang along with Cicero.

"And if the bard should choose to fight!" they all cried out in unison. "Why then we'll set his clothes ALIGHT!"

The Brotherhood released another loud 'Huzzah' before drinking from their mugs again.

The spirit rolled his eyes with a sigh. The jester interrupted him as he had tried to remind KaNack about retaining discipline. He had no reason for doing so at this point; the Fool of Hearts had won all of them over. Now there was pride instead of shame for their actions.

Thoring returned, carrying a tray that had a sweet roll and a bottle of mead. He saw the group celebrating and placed the tray on a table nearby the Keeper.

"What happened? Where did Sven go?"

"Don't ask," his daughter sighed. Being a bard was really hard in Dawnstar. Some people booed musicians when they did not like the songs played; here one's instrument got turned into kindling.

Vytalas grinned and raised his mug of ale high as did all the others.

"To the assassination of the lute!" the archer cheered as he held up his mug. There was a chorus of 'huzzah' in response to the Dark Elf.

"To getting paid!" added Nazir and his toast was cheered for as well.

"To Buddy!" KaNack laughed as he pointed at the Spectral Assassin.

"Listener," Lucien growled in a warning tone.

"To Buddy!" laughed the others before releasing a booming round of applause as their leader danced on top of the table.

"To Finn!" Cicero suddenly called out as he held up his bottle of mead.

KaNack looked at the jester in confusion, and then shrugged his shoulders. The Argonian was getting fairly drunk as was everyone else.

"Sure, why not? To Finn!"

"TO FINN!" all the Brotherhood members cheered loudly before downing their ale. The jester released a small smile before taking a drink.

"To Finn, indeed," he whispered quietly.


End file.
